


A Crack in Everything

by zeperoth



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cheating, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, eventual polyamorous relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeperoth/pseuds/zeperoth
Summary: Misa hooks up with L while drunk and ends up getting pregnant. Instead of killing L, Light kidnaps him, hoping he and Misa can win L over to their side. L wants nothing more than to bring Kira down, but captivity forces him to confront his complicated feelings for Light, as well as his growing affection for Misa...NOT ABANDONED (sorry for the hiatus, I'm working on it)
Relationships: Amane Misa/L, Amane Misa/L/Yagami Light, Amane Misa/Yagami Light, L/Yagami Light
Comments: 74
Kudos: 106





	1. Renewal

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [you want the sin without the sinner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311048?view_adult=true)
> 
> Title is from "Anthem" by Leonard Cohen:
> 
> _Ring the bells that still can ring  
>  Forget your perfect offering  
> There is a crack, a crack in everything  
> That's how the light gets in_

When Light Yagami steps out of the Kira Investigation Headquarters on a bleak, blustery afternoon in late October, he has only one thing on his mind: the impending demise of the world’s greatest detective, L. It has been three days since he killed Higuchi and regained his memories. Since then, he has thought of little else—has spent what some people might consider an unhealthy amount of time imagining L’s death in vivid, snuff film worthy detail: that blue-black hair splayed out against the floor, those long fingers twitching, those _eyes_ glazing over…

His perfect victory.

He smiles to himself as he crosses the street, fallen leaves crunching beneath his white tennis shoes. Everything has already been set in motion. All he has to do is wait. Any day now, L will try to test the 13-day rule, and Rem will sacrifice herself for Misa and write L’s name in her Death Note. Two birds; one stone. And just like that, all his problems will be solved. He’ll take over as L, and with access to every database in the world and Misa’s eyes, no one will pose a threat to him ever again.

He’s going to make the world a better place. If anyone tries to stop him, he’ll kill them. Just like he’s going to kill L.

It is miserably cold outside, and the streets are mostly deserted. He follows the directions on his phone to the florist’s, where he picks up the bouquet of flowers he’d ordered online that morning—pink roses, white lilies, and baby’s breath, all tied up with shimmery, powder pink ribbons. It’s so...girly...that it's painful to look at, but he’s sure Misa will like it.

“Special occasion?” the girl working at the register asks him as she rings up the flowers.

Light gives her a polite smile. “It’s me and my girlfriend’s four month anniversary today.”

“Lucky girl,” she says, half wistful, half teasing. Her fingers brush his as she hands him his change. They both pretend it’s an accident. “There you go. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks, you too.”

A gust of wind blows his bangs into his eyes as he steps out of the door. He smooths his hair back into place, glances at his reflection in the glass storefront, and continues on his way. He’s meeting Misa at a cafe downtown to celebrate their anniversary. It’d be quicker to take the subway there, but he decides to walk. After being confined indoors for nearly four months—first in a prison cell and then at Headquarters, handcuffed to L—it feels good to be out in the open air again, to feel the faint warmth of sunlight on his skin and breathe in the smoggy, slightly greasy smell of the city.

He only wishes that it weren’t so cold. He fucking hates the cold.

As he walks, his thoughts circle back to L. The detective’s been avoiding him ever since the handcuffs came off, which is a pity, really, since he would like nothing more than to imagine L’s death while sitting right next to him, watching him stuff his face with cake or build castles out of empty creamer cups or chew on his thumb as he stares at his laptop screen—but L probably knows that and is avoiding him for precisely that reason. God, how irritating. Light can’t wait to kill him.

And if there’s a part of him that has other reasons for wishing L would stop avoiding him, that actually kind of misses the tug of the handcuff around his wrist and the sound of his name on L’s lips—well, no, actually, there isn’t. He doesn’t. If he did, he could rationalize it easily enough—he and L were handcuffed together for months, after all—but he doesn’t. He doesn’t miss L or anything about him at all. He won’t miss him when he’s dead, either.

 _Liar,_ a voice in his head whispers. 

He resolutely ignores it.

* * *

Misa’s leg jitters under the table as she sits in the cafe, waiting for Light to arrive. She digs her compact out of her purse and checks her makeup while she’s waiting, just to give herself something to do. Her lipstick needs touching up. It’s a bold, cherry red today—a shade she absolutely adores but only wears occasionally, since it fades and smudges really easily. She reapplies it with a careful hand, pursing her lips and and blotting them with a tissue to remove the excess color once she’s done.

The bell on the door of the cafe chimes. Misa looks up, and he’s there: effortlessly handsome as always, his auburn hair tousled slightly by the wind, his jeans and black button-down as crisp as if they’ve been newly ironed. She shoves her compact back into her purse and jumps to her feet to meet him. “Light, it’s so good to see you!”

“You too, Misa.” He embraces her, and she has just enough time to catch a whiff of the sandalwood of his cologne before he pulls away, revealing the flowers he’s been hiding behind his back. “Happy four month anniversary,” he says, smiling.

Oh, God. It’s their anniversary. She’d completely forgotten, what with everything on her mind. Her stomach flips, but she forces a smile, clutching the flowers to her chest and kicking one leg up behind her. “Thank you so much, Light! Misa is the luckiest girl in the whole wide world to have you as her boyfriend!”

They sit down in a booth by the window, and a waiter hurries over to take their order. Misa orders a strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream. Light orders coffee with a splash of almond milk and no sugar.

The nervousness that has been brewing in the pit of her stomach all day returns in full force once the waiter leaves and the two of them are alone again. _Deep breaths,_ Misa reminds herself. _You can do this._

“Light…” she begins hesitantly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He is looking out the window, his gaze distant. “What is it?” he asks, barely even glancing at her.

She says it quickly, before she can lose her nerve. “I’m pregnant.”

 _That_ gets his attention. He turns to look at her, shock and panic mingling on his face. “But we—”

“It’s not yours,” Misa says, feeling her cheeks flush with shame.

Light gapes at her.

“Here you go!” The waiter’s voice is cheery and too loud. Misa can’t bring herself to look at him. She’s pretty sure her face is the same bright red color as her lipstick. Light is still staring at her with his mouth hanging slightly open.

The waiter takes one look at them, sets their drinks down, and practically trips over himself in his haste to get away from their table.

Gradually, the shell-shocked expression on Light’s face smooths over. He raises his cup to his lips and takes a small sip of coffee. When he speaks, his voice is mild. “You know, Misa, if you had told me that you wanted to see other people…”

Misa shakes her head. “Light…” For a moment she’s afraid she won’t be able to get the words out, but she does, somehow, because she has to tell him. She has to. “It’s Ryuzaki’s.”

Light chokes on his coffee.

“Jesus Christ, Misa,” he sputters, “you cheated on me with _L_?”

“It was a mistake,” Misa pleads. “We were both really, really drunk, and I know that’s no excuse, but you have to believe me, Light, I don’t even like him, I don’t know what I was thinking, I don’t know why I—”

“Fucked him on our three month anniversary while I was passed out less than six feet away from you?”

“I’m sorry,” Misa whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.” She makes a last-ditch effort to turn the conversation around. “I made a mistake, and I understand if you can’t forgive me…but, I mean, at least something good came out of it, right?”

Light laughs incredulously. “What, the fact that you got knocked up? How is that a good thing?”

“I just thought that it could, like, bring us all together, and this way we wouldn’t have to kill him, and we could…we could all…” _Be a family. Be happy._ She swallows the words, suddenly aware of just how stupid she must sound, how desperate, how pathetic and starry-eyed and _stupid._ “I just… I thought… I don’t know,” she finishes lamely, dropping her gaze.

The ensuing silence seems to stretch on forever.

Tears spring to her eyes, her optimism crumbling into despair. This is it, isn’t it? Light’s going to break up with her now. She had thought she could be useful to him but she’s stupid, she’s not useful to him, she’s just a liability and now she’s given him a reason to get rid of her. He’s going to break up with her and she’s going to be alone forever and it’s all her own fault.

 _God, how could I have been so stupid?_ She rages inwardly at herself. _Why do I always have to ruin everything?_

“Misa.” Light’s voice is quiet, almost gentle. He must feel bad for her because she’s crying. He’s kind like that. She doesn’t deserve him.

She looks up at him, her face wet with tears. “It’s okay, Light. You can break up with me. I won’t be mad, I promise.” She hiccups, forges on despite the fact that every part of her wants nothing more than to fall to her knees and beg him not to leave her. “If you want, I’ll even forfeit ownership of my Notebook and you can choose someone else to give it to. Someone who deserves you.”

Light reaches across the table and places his hand over hers. “I’m not going to do that, Misa,” he says, looking earnestly into her eyes. “You gave up half your lifespan for me. Twice. Do you really think I’d just abandon you, after all the sacrifices you’ve made for us—for the perfect world we’re going to build together?”

Misa sniffles and stares at him, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He sighs.

“Look. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t feel hurt and betrayed by what you did. But I’m not going to break up with you and leave you to deal with this alone. Also, I think you’re right: we have a real opportunity here, one far too good to pass up.”

“Really?” Misa asks hesitantly. “You…thought my idea was good?”

Light snorts. “No. On the contrary, it was absolutely idiotic—no offense, of course. But,” he gives her a conspiratorial smile, his amber eyes gleaming, “I think if we play our cards _just_ right, we might be able to pull it off.”

Misa clasps her hands together and leans forward eagerly. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any and all comments are appreciated.


	2. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the comments on the first chapter, and, as always, thank you for reading!

**The following is the record which contains everything I have investigated on the Kira incident. The fact that now you are reading this message, means I am no longer alive at this moment.**

**I hereby leave this record as my firm achievement.**

**That is all.**

L licks the frosting from his cupcake, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. The chocolate buttercream dissolves slowly in his mouth as he reads over the words he’s just written. Yes. That should do it. He hits SAVE, but doesn’t close the window—just crouches in his chair and stares at the screen. The wheels of the coffee cart have stopped rolling behind him and he knows Watari is reading the message over his shoulder.

It is late, and the two of them are alone in the control room. The rest of the task force has gone home for the night. The only other person at Headquarters is Light, and he is asleep in his room. L can see him snoring on the security monitor out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, Watari—what do you think? Fitting last words for the world’s greatest detective?”

It’s a self-pitying thing to say, but he is in a self-pitying mood. It’s his birthday today, and he’s just finished writing a message about the fact that he’s going to be dead soon. How ironic. Also, incredibly depressing.

If he had just—

Watari sighs, as if guessing his thoughts. “You did the best that you could, L. It’s not your fault.”

L is inclined to disagree, but Watari’s hand settles on his shoulder, and he says nothing. The words on the screen blur and swim together as he stares at them. His eyes burn, but the tears that trace their way down his face feel as cold as ice.

If he had just—

No. He can’t go back and change it, so there’s no use thinking about it. He closes his eyes, focusing on the comforting weight of Watari’s hand on his shoulder instead of his thoughts.

They stay like that a long time, bathed in the blue light of the monitors. Finally, Watari clears his throat, breaking the silence. “It’s getting late. I’m going to get some sleep.” He squeezes L’s shoulder. “You should get some rest too, L. It would do you good.”

L nods, not looking at him.

It’s pathetic, how alone he feels when Watari leaves. Like he’s eight and newly orphaned again. He should take Watari’s advice and get some sleep—he really should—but the thought of going to his room and trying to fall asleep in the bed he shared with Light for months makes him feel sick to his stomach. He goes to the kitchen instead. Hidden in a cabinet behind boxes of fruit-flavored jellies is a bottle of scotch: a 30-year-old Macallan single malt, a gift from a client whose case he had solved just a few weeks before the start of the Kira investigation. He’d accepted it merely out of politeness, never intending to drink it. Well—he’ll put it to good use tonight. It’s his birthday, after all. He might as well celebrate.

Taking the bottle with him, he heads to the roof.

The night air is cold on his face. The moon is a thin crescent in the sky above him. He stands on the edge of the roof, looks out over the glittering veins of the city he’s going to die in, and uncorks the bottle with his teeth.

“To you and your brave new world, Light.”

The pale amber liquid tastes like smoke and burns all the way down. He coughs violently. Grimaces. Then, after a moment, takes another sip.

Cough. Grimace. Repeat.

Each swallow is another step towards self-immolation. He decides, after a while, that he likes it. Maybe Beyond Birthday had the right idea.

 _You know you're tipsy when you start thinking that a crazy serial killer who set himself on fire 'had the right idea.'_ He giggles at the thought.

By the time the door to the rooftop creaks open behind him, he is well and truly drunk—drunk enough that he nearly falls off the side of the roof when Rem appears in the doorway. She moves like the ghost of someone who was never alive, purple-grey tendrils of something that cannot possibly be hair shifting around her face, even though there’s not so much as a breath of wind on the roof.

“Come to join in on the fun, Shinigami?”

He turns away from her without waiting for a response, taking a long swig from the bottle and letting his head fall back to stare at the sky. The bottle is still almost halfway full. He wonders if he can finish the entire thing without giving himself alcohol poisoning. God, Watari is going to be so disappointed in him if he drinks himself to death. It doesn’t really make a difference to him whether it’s alcohol poisoning or a heart attack, but Watari will be disappointed in him if it’s the former.

He doesn’t see Rem move until she is right beside him, blocking out his view of the moon. There is a sharp prick in his neck, and a sudden feeling of dizziness, but he doesn’t put the pieces together until he looks down and sees the syringe in her hand.

_Oh, fuck._

The world sways around him, then plunges into darkness.

* * *

He wakes up handcuffed to a bed in a small, windowless room. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Rem. The Shinigami is hovering at the foot of the bed, staring at him. She watches impassively as he tugs at the handcuff around his wrist, his eyes darting around the room, taking in the off-white walls and the conspicuous lack of furniture and the deadbolt on the door.

“Where am I? Why am I here?” His voice is thick and the effort of speaking sets his head to pounding. His mouth is drier than the Sahara desert. All in all, he feels like complete and utter shit.

She doesn’t respond, so he tries again. “Why am I still alive?”

Rem continues to stare at him, silent.

He sits up slowly, the bare mattress creaking beneath him. The movement makes him nauseous and he leans back against the headboard, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting the urge to be sick. _I’m never drinking again. Ever._ When he no longer feels like he’s going to throw up at that very moment, he opens his eyes and says, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Rem leans over him to unlock the handcuffs. The moment his wrist is free, L kicks out at her as hard as he can, panic lending him strength. Bones shatter beneath the heel of his foot; he slips out of the bed and makes a run for it. If he rams the door with enough force, he thinks he might be able to break it down. It shudders on his first attempt, but holds. Before he can try again, Rem’s skeletal fingers seize him by the arm, dragging him back toward the bed. He tries to kick her again, but he doesn’t have the element of surprise this time. She easily avoids the attack and pins him face down, struggling, against the mattress.

“I am much stronger than you, human, and I heal quickly from all physical injuries. Do not try to escape again. Such endeavors are useless. Even if you were to make it out of the door, I would simply write your name in my Death Note.”

She releases him after a moment and he flops onto his back, fighting back nausea. _I’m not going to throw up. I’m not going to throw up._ When he feels slightly better, he tries to stand, but his legs give out under him and he falls awkwardly onto the floor. “I actually do need to go to the bathroom,” he tells the Shinigami, “but I think you’re going to have to help me get there.”

He throws up after all in the bathroom, watery bile mixing with urine in the toilet bowl. The scotch burns even worse on the way up than it did going down. When he’s done, Rem half carries, half drags him back to the bed. 

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” he asks tiredly as she closes the handcuff around his wrist. 

“No.” 

L sighs, closes his eyes, and waits for Light to arrive. 

* * *

“Damn it, Rem, you could have killed him!” 

L crouches on the bed with his thumb between his teeth, listening to Light and Rem argue in hushed voices on the other side of the door. It has been at least two days since he was kidnapped, and he still has no idea _why_. He listens closely, hoping that one of them will reveal some crucial piece of information that will explain what the hell is going on. 

He can’t quite make out what Rem is saying. Light’s response, though, is perfectly clear. 

“Waited for him to drink himself into a stupor! Hit him really hard on the head or something! Dragged him away kicking and screaming! Literally _anything_ except emptying an entire syringe of Midazolam into him when he already had that much alcohol in his bloodstream!” 

Rem speaks again, her voice low and dull. Something about…his lifespan? 

Light makes an exasperated sound. “Whatever. Give me the key and go guard the front door.” 

A moment later, L hears the key turn in the lock. Then—Light is there, in the doorway, looking at him. And, for a moment, there is an expression of pure _relief_ on his face. 

“You look awful,” L says, because it’s true. Light’s hair is greasy and disheveled, his eyes are bloodshot, and he is practically swaying on his feet. 

Light sighs. “Yeah. It’s been a long day.” He closes the door behind him and comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “Don’t try anything,” he warns, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “Rem is right outside and I don’t have the key to the handcuffs anyway, so there’s really no point.” 

“Why am I here, Light?” L asks. He means to say _Kira_ , but changes his mind at the last moment and says _Light_ instead. There’s no difference, really—Light is Kira and Kira is Light—but there is something unguarded in Light’s eyes, and he doesn’t want to make it go away by saying _Kira,_ by reminding both of them that they are, and have always been, enemies. 

Light frowns at him. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out by now.” 

“Figured out what?’ 

For a moment, Light just stares at him. Then, to L’s surprise, he begins to laugh, hysterical giggles that bubble out of his throat and bring tears to his eyes. “You really don’t remember, huh? Wow. Was the sex _that_ unmemorable?” 

L stares at him, more confused than ever. “We’ve never had sex. I would certainly remember if we had.” 

This triggers another outburst of hysterical laughter. “Misa,” Light gasps finally, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You had sex with Misa. As in, you know, my girlfriend?” 

“Oh,” L says. He does not, in fact, remember that, but he doesn’t think Light would lie about something like that, so however unlikely it seems, it must be true. “And I’m here because…” 

“Misa’s pregnant.” 

The expression on his face makes Light laugh. “Yeah. I know. What are the chances, right?” 

Impossible, L thinks. It’s impossible. 

“Congratulations,” Light says brightly, “you’re going to be a father!” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” L says, pinching the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger of his free hand. “For God’s sake, I don’t even remember having sex with her.” 

“Yeah, well, you did. And it’s the only reason I haven’t killed you yet, so—how do you say it in English again? Count your lucky stars?” 

And there it is, L thinks. The bucket of cold water. The reminder of who and what they are. 

“I don’t understand,” he says slowly. “What exactly is your plan, Light? You’re Kira, and Misa is the Second Kira. So what if she’s carrying my child? It won’t stop me from having you both arrested and prosecuted to the full extent for your crimes. She’ll most likely serve a life sentence in prison. You, on the other hand, will almost certainly be executed.” 

Light shrugs. “You’re our prisoner now, aren’t you? Besides, I’m sure you’ll come to your senses eventually and give up all your silly ideas about arresting us. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll even be the Third Kira.” 

“That is a terrible plan,” L says, “for a number of reasons, foremost of which is the fact that I will _never_ —” 

“You’ll do it or you’ll die,” Light says, cutting him off. “It’s as simple as that.” After a moment, he sighs. “Sorry. That was a bit harsh. Look, we have plenty of time. We don’t have to talk about this tonight. And, just so you know, I’m well aware of the flaws in this plan—Misa was the one who came up with it in the first place, and she’s honestly not the brightest—but I’m sure it’ll all work out in my favor in the end. Everything always does.” He stands, giving L a smile that would probably be charming if he didn’t look like he was about to keel over from exhaustion on the spot. “Toodle doo, L. I’ll see you again soon.” 

He’s gone before L can say, _“Toodle doo?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was largely inspired by [Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/621537), which feels almost sacrilegious to say, because this fic is a dumpster fire and Nights is...well, it's Nights. I would highly, highly recommend reading it if you haven't already, it's absolutely brilliant!
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated!


	3. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mention of suicide
> 
> Sorry for the late update! I've been really busy these past few weeks and honestly haven't had much time or energy to write. The semester's almost over, though, so updates should be more frequent in the future!
> 
> I also ended up going back and editing Chapters 1 and 2 because I wasn't really happy with the characterization the first time around. If you've been following this fic all along and don't feel like going back and rereading, no worries! All major plot points and most of the dialogue has stayed the same. The biggest change I made was adding a rather angsty scene at the beginning of Chapter 2 in which L thinks about Light and gets really, really drunk, so if that's something you want to read, feel free to check it out.
> 
> This chapter jumps back in time to cover the events of Chapter 2 from the task force's perspective. Hopefully it doesn't make the timeline too confusing!

“Are you ready to confess, Light Yagami?”

“I’m not Kira. I have nothing to confess _to._ ”

“You met Misa Amane at a cafe in the Shinjuku district yesterday afternoon, less than twelve hours before L disappeared. What did the two of you talk about?”

“Nothing of any bearing to this case.”

“Why don’t you let us be the judge of that? I’ll ask you again: what did the two of you talk about?”

“Honestly, Watari…how can I put this politely? It’s none of your business, so, please, stop asking about it.”

Watari takes his finger off the button connected to the microphone, muting himself. The rest of the task force—minus Matsuda, who is currently down the hall asking Misa Amane the same questions Watari’s been asking Light—exchanges looks behind his back. It has been eighteen hours since they took Light and Misa into custody, and they are no closer to finding L. If this goes on for much longer, they’ll have no choice but to let their only two suspects go.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Aizawa says, voicing the concerns of the entire group. “Maybe we should switch tactics. Show him the video, see how he reacts to that.”

Watari shakes his head. “I don’t believe that to be the best course of action at the present moment. We need to get him to crack first.”

“What if we tell him that Amane has already confessed?” Mogi suggests.

Chief Yagami speaks without looking away from the video feed of the interrogation room. “He won’t fall for that.”

Watari sighs. “Unfortunately, I agree. Your son is far too clever for his own good.”

Just then, Matsuda bursts through the door, breathless. “Guys! I got Misa-Misa to talk to me!”

“Don’t call her that,” Aizawa snaps. 

“Sorry.”

“Well, what did she say?”

Matsuda casts a nervous glance toward the Chief. “Sir, I’m really, really sorry that you have to find out like this, but…Misa-san is pregnant. She says Light wanted to keep it a secret until he figured out a way to tell you. That’s what they talked about on their date yesterday.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mogi says. “Light was handcuffed to Ryuzaki up until…what, five days ago? When would he and Misa have…”

“Yeah, I asked her that too. She says it happened about a month ago, on their three month dating anniversary. They were drinking together, and apparently Ryuzaki passed out at some point, and…” He trails off, blushing slightly.

“Drinking?!” Chief Yagami sounds horrified. “Light isn’t of drinking age, and I don’t think Misa is either. Where did they even get the alcohol?”

Aizawa thinks the answer to that question is painfully obvious, given the expression of guilt on Matsuda’s face.

Thankfully, before the conversation can get any more awkward than it already is, Watari clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “I will, ahem, review the security footage later to verify the details of Amane’s story. In the meantime, we can assume that she is telling the truth. Matsuda, please tell her that she is free to go. I believe we should focus our attention on Light now.”

Matsuda nods and leaves the room. Watari presses the button attached to the microphone and speaks into it.

“Light, we know that Misa is pregnant.”

The panic that flashes across Light’s face is obvious despite the somewhat grainy quality of the video feed. “Oh my god. Dad, if you’re listening, I’m so sorry, I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how to bring it up, I…Wait.” He stops, narrows his eyes. “I may not be Kira, but I swear, Watari, if you’ve hurt her…”

“She is unharmed. In fact, we are releasing her now, as we have no reason to keep her for extended interrogation.”

“You don’t have a reason to keep me for extended interrogation either,” Light says, “and yet—here I am.”

“Is that what you think?”

Light rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. We all know that the only reason I’m here is because Ryuzaki said _months ago_ that if anything happened to him, you could assume that I was Kira. Well, I’m not. You’re wasting your time. Take the handcuffs off already and I’ll help you look for him.”

After a moment of consideration, Watari mutes himself. “Let’s show him the video.”

“I’ll do it,” Aizawa says. Taking his laptop and the flash drive with the recording on it, he heads down the hall to the interrogation room.

Light looks even worse in person than he did on the video feed, his eyes bloodshot and his skin pale from exhaustion. “Aizawa? What is this?” he asks as the older man sits down across the table from him and plugs the flash drive into the laptop.

“Just watch the video,” Aizawa says. He turns the laptop to face Light and presses PLAY.

It’s the previous night’s security footage of the roof. Light’s eyebrows draw together as he watches it. “Is that…whiskey?”

“Scotch, I think. Now listen to what he says.”

_“To you and your brave new world, Light.”_

The video cuts off there. For a moment after it ends, Light just stares blankly at the screen. Then he buries his face in his arms and begins to cry. 

“Fuck!” he screams, his voice muffled by the sleeve of his shirt. Then, again, louder: “Fuck!” His expression is utterly wrecked when he looks up, and Aizawa sees it then, even if the others don’t: Light Yagami is _in love with L._ He closes the laptop slowly, suddenly unsure of what to do. 

“After everything,” Light says quietly, staring into empty space, “he still thought I was Kira.” He laughs humorlessly. “I get it now. You all think so, don’t you? You all think I’m a fucking murderer.” He stands suddenly, his chair screeching against the floor, and _screams_ at the camera. “Why? What is about me that makes you think I’d be capable of something like that? I bet it’s because I’m just _too fucking perfect_ , right? Well, guess what, I’m not! You want a confession? I’ll give you a confession. I cheated on a geography test in third grade and I only volunteered at the homeless shelter every weekend during high school because I thought it would look good on my resume, not because I actually give a fuck about homeless people, and a few weeks ago I got drunk, even though I’m underage, and had unprotected sex with my girlfriend and now she’s fucking pregnant! I’m not _fucking_ perfect! I make mistakes just like everyone else and I have feelings just like everyone else and—you know what?—it actually really fucking hurts that all of you think I’m capable of murder! Honestly, fuck it. Fuck all of you. I’m tired of denying the same accusations over and over again. So keep me here against my will. Torture a false confession out of me. Put a gun to my head and tell me you’ll see me in hell—but you’d better blow my fucking brains out this time, because if one more person accuses me of being Kira, I might just do it myself!” 

He drops back into his chair, breathing raggedly. “Aizawa?” he says after a moment. 

“Yes?” 

“Get the fuck out, would you?” 

After his outburst, he flat-out refuses to answer any of Watari’s questions. They let him go about an hour later, because—well, what else are they going to do? He shoulders past his father without a backward glance, leaving the Chief standing in the hallway with a stricken look on his face. 

“He’ll be back,” Aizawa says, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

The elder Yagami doesn’t look at him. “Will he?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments are appreciated :)


	4. Reminiscence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: self harm (not exactly, but I'm putting a warning here just to be on the safe side)
> 
> This was supposed to be the first part of a longer chapter, but I decided to split it up in order to keep chapter length somewhat consistent throughout the fic. I'll probably post the next chapter either tomorrow or the day after.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!

“L, do you know? Gods of death love apples.”

A smile quirks Light’s lips as he reaches into his bag and pulls out a Red Delicious apple. He weighs the fruit in the palm of his hand, then tosses it into the air. It disappears less than a second after it leaves his hand—simply vanishes into thin air, as if never even existed in the first place.

It hasn’t actually vanished from existence, of course. L knows that. The second Shinigami, the one he can’t see, must be in the room with them, which is…rather unsettling to think about, honestly, but it’s not as if he can do anything about it unless he somehow convinces Light to let him touch the second Death Note. 

Speaking of which…

“You and Misa traded Death Notes?”

Light seems surprised by the question. “Why would you think…Oh. I see.” He closes the door behind him and comes to sit on the edge of the bed, dropping his bag onto the floor. “No. We didn’t. The two Shinigami swapped ownership of our Notebooks, though, which is why you can’t see Ryuk even though you’ve touched my Death Note, the one that originally belonged to him.”

“I see,” L says. _So you wanted Rem to be the Shinigami that the task force came in contact with. You trust her to follow orders more than you trust the other one. Ryuk, is it? Maybe I can convince Ryuk to turn against you…but in order to do that, I need to find a way to touch Misa’s Death Note._

Light leans back on his elbows, stretching his legs out on the mattress and tilting his head slightly as he looks at L. His bangs fall at an angle across his face, brushing his eyelashes and the curve of his cheekbone. “What are you thinking about?” he asks softly, teasing. “Hatching some nefarious plot against me?”

“Would you blame me if I was?” L says dryly.

Light laughs. “No.” Then, in a more serious tone, “Still, I’d advise you against it. I’ve decided to let you live—for now—but I won’t hesitate to kill you if you become a threat to me.”

L stares at him flatly. “I _am_ a threat to you."

“Aw. That’s cute that you think so.”

 _I could kill you right now,_ L thinks. It’s not an idle threat. He could do it easily. Light is sitting too close to him; he could crush his windpipe with one well-placed blow, kill him before either of the Shinigami could stop him. He doesn’t, though. He’d prefer not to take such drastic measures unless he has no other choice. Instead, he jerks at the handcuff around his wrist, making it clang against the bed frame. The metal bites into his skin, but he clenches his jaw and continues to tug on it, even when blood begins to trickle down his arm.

“Stop that,” Light says, sitting up with a frown. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Oh, am I?” L grits his teeth and jerks his wrist again, as viciously as he can. “Thank you for telling me, Light. I didn’t notice.”

“I said stop!” Light grabs his arm, grimacing at the blood that smears his fingers. “What the hell is wrong with you?"

 _So many things, Light. If only you knew._ He laughs to himself at the thought, a sharp, jagged sound.

Light gives him a concerned look. “Seriously, L, what’s wrong?” He frowns when L doesn’t respond and, oddly enough, goes on the defensive, as if the fact that L is anything less than overjoyed at being kidnapped and chained to a bed in a shitty basement apartment is a personal insult to him. “I could have killed you, and I didn’t. You should be _grateful._ ”

“There are worse things than death, Light.”

“Such as?”

L sighs. _Nothing you’d understand._ He says, “Not having any sugar or caffeine for over a week.”

“Oh.” Light sits back, looking relieved. “I brought you cake, actually. You can have it if you sit still and let me clean up your wrist while you eat.”

L considers this for a moment. “Okay,” he says finally.

Light hands him a slice of bakery cake and a plastic fork, then gets to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” L waits for him to leave the room before shoveling the first forkful of cake into his mouth. The cake itself is a bit dry, and the cream cheese frosting isn’t sweet enough for his liking, but after a week of living off of nothing but miso soup and plain white rice—which are apparently the only human foods Rem knows how to make—it tastes like heaven. He abandons the fork in favor of eating the cake straight from the container.

By the time Light comes back with a handful of wet paper towels, L is licking the last traces of frosting from the edges of the plastic container. Light takes one look at him and laughs. “You have frosting on your face.” Before he can wipe it away himself, Light does it for him, sweeping his thumb across the corner of L’s mouth and then sticking it into his own mouth as if this is a perfectly normal thing to do. “Mmm. That’s really good, actually. Not too sweet.”

L waits for him to realize what he’s done, but Light doesn’t even seem to register that anything out of the ordinary has happened. He just sits down on the bed and starts dabbing at the cuts on L’s wrist with a wet paper towel, his touch surprisingly gentle. 

L is reminded, suddenly, of another time Light had cleaned his wounds. It had been about a month ago, when the two of them had still been handcuffed together. They had gotten into a fight; he had given Light a black eye, and Light had tackled him, and his face had grazed the razor-sharp edge of the coffee table as he went down. The next day, Light had insisted on taking a look at the cut on his face, cleaning it with an alcohol wipe, and putting a band-aid on it. He hadn’t apologized for causing the injury—neither of them had ever apologized for anything that happened during their fights—but there had been something in the way he had looked at L that day, the way his hand had lingered as he smoothed down the band-aid…

 _Even if he felt something for you once, he doesn’t anymore._ It’s a harsh reminder, but a necessary one. He jerks his wrist out of Light’s grasp, making the handcuff clang against the metal bars of the headboard.

“L? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

_Yes._

_I saw it coming, but...yes._

“Get out,” he says, fixing Light with a cold stare.

Light stares back at him, obviously confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “Okay,” he says after a moment, shrugging and standing up. “Suit yourself.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves without a backward glance, calling for Rem to lock the door behind him.

 _Wait,_ L wants to say. But he doesn't.


	5. Friend

“Hyuk hyuk hyuk!” Ryuk chortles, hovering over Light’s shoulder as he climbs the flight of stairs from the landing outside the apartment to street level. “What’s _his_ deal? Is it his time of the month or something?”

Light snorts indelicately. “You might be onto something there, Ryuk.” It’s drizzling outside, and he pulls the hood of his jacket up to keep his hair from getting wet. This has the added bonus of hiding his face from view, so that, as long as he keeps his voice down, nobody around him will notice him talking to the Shinigami. “Honestly, though, he’s always like that. I had to put up with his mood swings for months while I was handcuffed to him. I’m used to it by now.”

“Remind me again why you didn’t kill him?” Ryuk says. “I mean, aren’t you guys supposed to be mortal enemies or something?” He falls silent, then cackles suddenly, as if a particularly amusing idea has just occurred to him. “You haven’t gotten attached to him, have you, Light'o?”

Light scoffs. “Of course not. Look, Ryuk, have you ever heard the saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’? Well, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m pretending to be his friend so that I can figure out his weaknesses and use them against him. As for why I didn’t kill him…well, I was going to, but then I realized it would be much more satisfying to _really_ defeat him—to make him admit that he was wrong and bow down to me as his God. And, I mean, he’s the world’s greatest detective for a reason. It would be such a waste to kill him when I could have him on my side.”

“Huh,” Ryuk says. “What an _interesting_ idea. But do you really think you can convince him to switch sides just like that?”

“I can convince anyone to do anything,” Light says, albeit with more confidence than he feels. “Don’t worry, Ryuk. I have a plan. And I promise you’ll find it very, very entertaining.”

The Shinigami cackles gleefully in response. “I can’t wait, Light'o.”

He heads to the subway station with Ryuk trailing behind him. As he walks, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and types out a short text message. **Dad, can we talk?**

The reply comes almost immediately. Either the task force has abandoned L’s cell-phones-off policy in the wake of his disappearance, or his dad has been waiting so anxiously for Light to reach out to him that he’s been disregarding the rule. He feels an unwelcome twinge of guilt at the thought of his dad hunched over his phone at his desk, checking his messages and missed calls again and again, but he pushes it down. He’d long ago accepted the fact that he might one day have to kill his dad. Giving him the silent treatment for a few days is nothing in comparison.

**Of course, Light. I’m at HQ, but I can meet you wherever you’d like. Just give me some time to get there.**

He replies: **HQ is fine. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.**

Ryuk doesn’t ask him who he’s texting, and it’s not until they’re getting on the subway that he seems to notice they’re not going to Misa’s apartment. “Hey, Light'o! We’re on the wrong train!”

“No, we’re not. I’m going to Headquarters.” People mill about him as they get on the train, so he pretends to be talking on the phone to avoid suspicion. “You don’t have to come. Spend the rest of the day with Misa, if you want.”

“Eh, I’d rather follow you around than her. Are you sure you want to go to Headquarters, though? You have blood on your jacket.”

“I— _what?”_ He looks down, and sure enough, there’s blood on the sleeve of his jacket, staining the white fabric a dark reddish-brown. There’s only a little bit of it, but still. It’s L’s blood and it’s on his jacket. “Seriously?” he hisses at Ryuk. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Like, back at the apartment, so I could have washed it out before I left?”

“Sorry, Light'o.” Ryuk doesn’t sound even vaguely apologetic. In fact, he’s doing a handstand in the middle of the train, his blue-lipped grin as wide as ever. “I didn’t notice until just now.”

Light sighs tiredly, making a mental note to wash the jacket as soon as possible. If the blood doesn’t come out, he’s going to need to burn the entire jacket, which would really be a pity since it’s one of his favorites. He’d worn it the day he’d killed Raye Penber and the other FBI agents, so it has fond memories associated with it. But the last thing he needs is incriminating DNA evidence tying him to L’s disappearance. If he has to, he’ll burn it.

The doors of the subway begin to close. Ryuk gives him a questioning look.

“I’m still going,” Light says. He doesn’t have time to go to Misa’s apartment and get rid of the jacket if he wants to make it to Headquarters within the next 20 minutes. “It’ll be fine. If anyone asks, I’ll make something up. Honestly, after that show I put on the other day, they’ll believe anything I say.”

As things turn out, he’s right. His dad is waiting for him outside Headquarters when he gets there. He says _I’m so sorry_ and Light says _No, I’m the one who should be sorry_ and _I know you only agreed to the mock execution because you believe I’m innocent, I didn’t mean what I said the other day_ and his dad hugs him and maybe Light is a little teary-eyed when he lets go, although they both pretend he isn’t, and their relationship is mended just like that. They go inside and Light says _I owe you all an apology_ and _I understand if you believe it would best for me to step down from the Kira investigation_ and, insisting that they need him on the team, the task force welcomes him back with open arms. Light arranges his facial muscles into all the right expressions and says all the right things in the right tone of voice while Ryuk laughs and laughs behind him, doing cartwheels in front of the computer screens. 

When Matsuda asks about the blood on the sleeve of his jacket, Light blushes, lowers his voice, and tells him that Misa brought home fake blood from some Halloween-themed photoshoot and that they accidentally spilled it while having sex that morning. It’s probably the least believable lie he’s ever told in his life, but Matsuda believes him. They all do.

Without L there, everything is almost too easy.

* * *

L is sitting on the bed with his legs crossed in lotus pose, attempting to meditate, when Misa walks in through the door. “Ryuzaki!” she squeals, dropping the grocery bags she’s carrying and throwing her arms around him as if they're best friends. “I’m so glad to see you!”

She feels small and frail, pressed up against him. Her perfume smells like cherries. He sits there awkwardly, waiting for her to let go. She does, eventually, pulling back to arm’s length, her big brown eyes flitting first to his face and then to the space just above his head.

“It’s Lawliet,” he says, taking pity on her—there’s no letter L in Japanese and there are three in his name—and sounding it out.

“Oh.” Misa scrunches up her nose, making the tortoiseshell glasses she’s wearing slip down her face. “That’s such a weird name! Is it okay if I just…keep calling you Ryuzaki? I’m not sure if I can pronounce…”

“Yes, Ryuzaki is fine.”

“Great!” Her voice is bright, but she frowns slightly as she looks at him.

“What?”

“It’s just…you’re really thin. Like, you’re a lot…bonier…than you were a month ago. You should eat more, okay? I don’t know what Rem’s been feeding you, but I bought a couple different types of instant ramen, and frozen veggies, and onigiri with plum filling.” She gestures to the grocery bags on the floor. “Oh, and I got you some panda cookies too, in case you get hungry between meals. And Pocky—I got both the chocolate and strawberry mousse flavors, since I wasn’t sure which one you like more.”

His mouth actually starts watering at the thought of strawberry mousse Pocky. It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a little over a week since he had an unlimited supply of sugary snacks at his fingertips. Now, he only gets sweet treats when Light comes to visit, which is no doubt some kind of attempt at Pavlovian conditioning, because Light is annoying like that.

“That’s very kind of you, Misa,” he says cautiously. _Panda cookies and two different flavors of Pocky? What’s the catch?_

“If I let you have the snacks,” Misa says, waving her finger in his face, “you have to promise me you’ll eat at least two actual, nutritious meals every day. Not eating is really dangerous, you know. You could _die.”_ There’s something almost frantic in the way she breathes out the last sentence. L nods, if only to placate her.

“Okay, Misa. I promise.”

“Great!” She clasps her hands together, smiling. “I’m going to go unpack the groceries and talk to Rem now. Do you want some panda cookies while you wait?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

She hands him a box of cookies on her way out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. He hears her talking to Rem outside, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. After a minute or two, he gives up on eavesdropping and focuses his attention on the panda cookies instead. They disappear all too quickly. He tips the last crumbs from the box into his mouth, then sets it aside and watches Misa through the crack in the door as she puts the groceries into the refrigerator. In addition to the glasses, she’s wearing a glossy brown wig and a shapeless, mustard-yellow sweater dress instead of her usual goth getup. It’s a good disguise. She doesn’t look like herself at all. Still, despite the overlarge glasses and the sweater dress—which is, quite frankly, the ugliest thing L has ever seen in his life—she's absolutely stunning. He finds it difficult to believe that someone like her would have had sex with someone like him. They had both been heavily intoxicated, apparently. Maybe she had mistaken him for Light.

Misa finishes putting the groceries away and comes back into the room, humming quietly to herself. L blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. “Was it good?”

She blinks at him, seeming confused by the question.

“The sex,” he clarifies. “Was it...to your satisfaction?”

“Oh my god, Ryuzaki, you can’t just—” Misa sputters indignantly, her face turning bright red. “That is such a _perverted_ thing to ask!”

L hastily backtracks. “Please accept my apologies, Misa. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable. I was only asking out of curiosity, because, well, honestly, I don’t remember it.”

“Oh,” Misa says, deflating slightly. “Yeah, Light mentioned that. I guess you were really drunk, huh? Um…to answer your question, it was fine. I don’t remember it very well either, since I was drunk too.” She changes tacks suddenly, glancing around the room. “Wow, it is so depressing in here! It’s like a prison cell! I’ll bring some posters the next time I come by, and, oh, we definitely have to get some different lighting…I have some pink lightbulbs at my place that Light doesn’t like, so I was going to get rid of them, but maybe I could bring them here instead? Do you like pink, Ryuzaki? I mean, it’s totally fine if you don’t, I get it, it’s kind of girly…” She trails off, glancing nervously at him.

L raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine!” She throws her hands up in defeat. “Yes! It was good! It was really, really good! But don’t let it go to your head, okay? I want to be clear about this, Ryuzaki. I like you, but only as a friend. It is never, ever, ever going to happen again, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I understand,” L says dryly. _As if I would have expected anything else._

“Good.” Misa looks away, smoothing a hand over her wig, her cheeks still slightly flushed. “Everything’s fine so far, with the pregnancy. In case you were wondering.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Her phone rings. She fishes it out of her purse and glances down at the screen. “Sorry, Ryuzaki. I have to take this. It’s my manager.” She doesn’t leave the room, though, just answers the call right where she is. “Hello? Yes? Oh…okay then. Same time, same place? You bet! Okay, have a great rest of your day! Bye-bye.” She hangs up, putting her phone back in her purse. “I was supposed to do a meet-and-greet tonight, but it got rescheduled to tomorrow, so I guess I’m free for the rest of the day! Um…do you want to watch TV or something?”

L raises an eyebrow. “TV?”

“Yeah, there’s one in the living room. Rem!” Misa raises her voice. “Come here for a moment, will you?”

The Shinigami drifts through the wall. “What is it, Misa?”

“Well?” Misa asks, looking at L. He nods. _Why not._ She turns back to the Shinigami. “Can you unchain Ryuzaki from the bed? We’re going to watch TV together in the living room.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Misa.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Rem. We’re friends. He wouldn’t hurt me…right, Ryuzaki?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“See? And he won’t try to escape either, because then you would have to kill him, and I would be sad, and our poor baby would grow up without its biological father, so it would be sad too.” A pause. “Please, Rem?”

The Shinigami relents with a nod, and Misa beams.

Both of L’s knees and his left hip joint crack loudly when he stands up. Apart from his bathroom breaks, he hasn’t had the opportunity to get off the bed and stretch his legs all week. It feels nice to be able to do so. Rem glowers threateningly at him, but he ignores her, following Misa out into the living room. He settles into his usual crouch on top of the sofa, and Misa sits down beside him. She turns the TV on and flicks through the channels—never stopping long enough on a news channel for him to ascertain how many criminals she and Light have killed in the past week—before eventually settling on an animated show about…sheep? Living in a monastery? In outer space?

“Oh my god, Ryuzaki, this was my favorite show as a kid! Can we watch this? Please?”

She’s one of the most prolific serial killers the world has ever seen, every bit as dangerous as Light is—if not _more_ dangerous than him, given her ability to see the name of whoever she looks at—volatile, and completely merciless. But when she looks up at L with her big, brown doe eyes, humming along to the corny theme song playing on the television, the smile that tugs at his lips is genuine.

“Sure, Misa. Let’s watch it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome!


	6. Baptism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: torture, child death (implied)
> 
> A number of unfortunate things happen in this chapter, so be forewarned.

“The criminal justice system isn’t _broken._ To say so would imply that it can be fixed. What people don’t understand is that the system is functioning exactly how it was intended to. It’s rotten to the core. No, what Japan needs—what every country in the world needs—isn’t reform, it’s _revolution_ …”

Light is working himself into a frenzy, pacing back and forth across the room as he talks, his eyes glittering with passion. L crouches on the bed with his thumb between his teeth, watching him through half-lidded eyes. He’s tired. He wishes Light would leave.

“Don’t you see, L? The world _needs_ Kira. It—”

The door flies open. Light breaks off mid sentence.

“Misa? What are you doing here?”

Wordlessly, she throws herself into his arms. She’s dripping wet, her blonde hair plastered to her skull, her white nightgown practically see-through, clinging to her skin. She clutches at him as desperately as a drowning sailor might clutch at a piece of driftwood.

Light doesn’t push her away, although it’s obvious from the expression on his face that he wants to. “Misa? What’s wrong? I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Her only response is to tighten her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. She’s shaking so hard L wonders if she has hypothermia.

Annoyance flickers across Light’s face. “Ryuk, would you care to tell me what happened?”

L can’t hear what the Shinigami says, but whatever it is makes Light’s eyes go flinty with anger. “Watari,” he hisses. “That _bastard_.” He wraps his arms around Misa, softening his voice. “Misa, listen to me. It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re here. I’m here. Just listen to my voice. It’s okay. Shh. You’re okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Light.” Misa’s voice is barely a whisper. “I know it’s stupid, I just…I couldn’t see their faces, and I was so scared…it was like that night all over again, with my parents…” Her breath hitches in a sob.

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay.” Light rubs her back in soothing circles, guiding her over to the bed and sitting down beside her. Gradually, she calms down enough to let go of him, sniffling quietly and wrapping her arms around herself as if suddenly conscious of the fact that she’s wearing nothing but her underwear and a soaking wet nightgown.

Rem drifts over, silently offering her an armful of dry clothes. Misa gives her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Rem. Um…I’m going to go get changed.” 

Light waits until the bathroom door closes behind her, then turns to face L.

“What happened?” L asks, although he thinks he can hazard a pretty good guess.

“She was getting ready for bed when three men broke into her apartment,” Light says flatly. “They were wearing masks, so she couldn’t see their names. She hid under the bed. They acted as if they were looking for the Death Note, but you and I both know that Watari’s real intention was to scare her into having a flashback of the night her parents were murdered—which, of course, is exactly what happened.” His mouth tightens with anger. “You people and your fucking dirty tactics.”

L barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. “You and Misa are serial killers, but, go on, take the moral high ground if it makes you feel better.” He doesn’t bother to deny the accusation against Watari. No one else would have sent men in masks to Misa’s apartment in the middle of the night, and they both know it.

“I’m going to kill him,” Light says, his voice dark with promise.

“Good luck with that. You don’t know his name.”

“No, but I bet you do. Remember how I killed the FBI agents?”

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to keep me alive,” L says dismissively. “You wouldn’t write my name in the Death Note just to kill Watari.”

Light narrows his eyes. “What if I started killing innocent people until you told me his name?”

“I wouldn’t tell you, and then you’d have killed innocents for nothing.”

They stare each other down. Light is the first to look away. “Whatever. I’ll find a way to kill him, believe me.”

“Who are we killing?” Misa asks, emerging from the bathroom and coming to sit on the bed beside Light. She looks cozy in one of L’s long sleeved shirts and a pair of Light’s sweatpants, and her voice is cheerful, as if her earlier breakdown has already been forgotten.

“Watari,” Light says shortly.

“Only you don’t know his name.”

“Yes, thank you, L, we’ve established that.”

Misa looks back and forth between them, her eyebrows furrowing. Then, suddenly, her expression brightens. “Wait, Light, I have an idea! Ryuzaki knows his name, right? We could torture it out of him!”

“No. We are _not_ doing that.”

Misa frowns. “Why not?”

“Because torture is wrong."

L laughs aloud. This is probably a bad time to insert himself into the conversation, but he just can’t help himself. “Let me get this straight, Light. Murder is fine and dandy…but torture is wrong?”

Light glares daggers at him. “Killing criminals isn’t murder. It’s justice. Torture, on the other hand, is morally reprehensible—not to mention prohibited by international human rights laws. Geneva Convention? Hello?”

“But he did it to me first!” Misa says. “That makes it okay, doesn’t it? It’s like that saying! Um…”

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?” L suggests.

“Shut up,” Light snaps. “You’re not a part of this conversation. Whose side are you on, anyway?” He rubs a hand across his face, looking tired. “Misa…”

“Please, Light?” She looks up at him with puppy dog eyes. “He tortured me first. It’s only fair that I return the favor. And, I mean, how else are we going to find out Watari’s name? I’ll do it—you don’t have to be involved at all if it makes you uncomfortable. Please, just this once?”

Light sighs. “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want, Misa. But I don’t want any part in it.”

Misa clasps her hands together, beaming. “Thank you so much, Light! I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Just try not to kill him,” Light says flatly, standing up and heading for the door. “And you…” He looks over his shoulder at L, his expression inscrutable. “Try not to die. Like you said, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to keep you alive.”

* * *

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Misa says. She’s standing in front of the mirror, running a plastic comb through her hair while they wait for the bathtub to fill up. “You could just tell me his name and we could watch TV or something, like we did the other day.”

“You mean after you kill him,” L says, dipping his fingers into the water. It’s freezing cold and he tries not to think too hard about what it’s going to feel like in his lungs. This is going to be bad enough as it is; there’s no use making it worse for himself by getting worked up before it even starts.

Misa shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But you’re going to tell me his name eventually, so why don’t we just skip the unpleasant part?”

“And watch that awful show with the sheep? No, thanks. I think I’d rather be doing this.”

“Hey! I _like_ that show.”

“I do too, Misa. I was just kidding.”

The bathtub is over three-quarters of the way full. Misa glances at it and puts down her comb. “Turn the water off, will you, Ryuzaki? Thanks. Um…do you want to take your shirt off? So it doesn’t get wet?”

“If _you_ want me to take my shirt off…” L deadpans.

Misa rolls her eyes. “You’re definitely just stalling now. No offense, Ryuzaki, but I’m dating Light, and, in case you didn’t notice, he’s smoking hot. Why would I want to see _your_ scrawny chest?”

“Ouch.”

Misa smiles at him as if to say, _Just kidding, obviously_ , and suddenly all L can think is, _**You’re** smoking hot._ Which is…a completely inappropriate thing to be thinking, given the current situation. He clears his throat, hoping he’s not blushing. His cheeks feel warm but maybe, hopefully, it’s not noticeable.

“I’d prefer to keep it on, actually.”

She shrugs, pulling a necktie out her pocket. It’s one of Light’s. He recognizes it from the To-Oh entrance ceremony where he’d told Light that he was L. “Turn around and show me your wrists, okay?” He does, and she ties his hands behind his back. Her fingers are warm where they brush against his skin. “Okay, all done!” she says after a moment, stepping back. “Rem, I think we’re ready.”

L turns his head to look at the Shinigami as she floats through the doorway. Then large, bony hands are pushing him forward, forcing him to his knees in front of the bathtub, and he thinks _Oh God no actually I am **not** ready I can’t do this I can’t_. Thankfully, the Shinigami doesn’t push him under yet, just holds him there, one hand on his shoulder and the other at the base of his skull. Her hands are cold and he wishes it was Misa touching him.

“You can still tell me his name,” Misa says from somewhere behind him. She sounds hopeful.

“I’m sorry, Misa. I can’t.”

He has just enough time to take a deep breath before Rem pushes his head underwater.

The cold water is a shock and he jerks instinctively, trying to get free, but the Shinigami keeps him pinned under the surface with seemingly no effort at all. Just when he thinks he can’t hold his breath any longer, she lets him up. He takes all of two breaths before he’s plunged underwater again. This time, she holds him under for much longer, not letting him break the surface even when he starts genuinely struggling, so desperate for air he’s afraid he’s going to open his mouth and breathe in water instead.

Finally, _finally_ , Rem lets him up. One gasp of oxygen, and he goes under again. He fights her from the onset this time, but it’s useless. She’s too strong and he can’t break free. Bubbles burst out of his mouth in a hopeless scream. _Stupid. So, so stupid_. He’s wasted his air and she’s not letting him up and then he really does inhale water, his entire body spasming. The pain and fear are overwhelming.

He breaks the surface coughing, heaving desperately for air. Rem lets go of him but he hardly notices. He’s too focused on just trying to breathe. His head is spinning and his face feels numb and he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. Gradually, he becomes aware that Misa is touching him. Her hand is warm against the side of his face. It’s warm. She’s sitting on the edge of the tub now. He doesn’t know when she moved.

“Tell me Watari’s name,” she says. Soft. Pleading.

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Misa. I can’t.”

Rem pushes him under again.

He’d known it would be bad but he’d never imagined it would be like this. He’d never imagined anything could be like this. The worst part is that he can’t stop himself from struggling, can’t stop trying to break free and get to the surface even though he knows it’s useless. The oxygen deprivation makes him dizzy but he never quite loses consciousness, as much as he wishes he would.

Rem pushes him under again, and again, and again, her grip unyielding, no matter how hard he fights.

At some point they take a break. Misa touches his face and her hand is warm and half an hour slips by like it’s no time at all. When the Shinigami forces him to his knees in front of the tub again, he begs for mercy.

“Five more minutes,” Misa says, relenting, and then, when the five minutes are up, “Please, Ryuzaki, just tell me his name and all of this can be over, _please._ ”

L tells her Watari’s name is Roger Ruvie but Rem knows he’s lying and then he’s underwater again. He thinks of Watari and all the names Watari knows—Wedy’s and Aiber’s and Near’s and Mello’s and Matt’s—and tells himself that he can’t give in, he can’t, but the pain and the panic are overwhelming and he can’t stop himself from thinking _I can’t take this anymore, I can’t, Light probably won’t think of making Watari write other names in the Death Note, and Watari is getting old anyway,_ and he hates himself for even thinking about it, but he can’t take this anymore, he just can’t.

“Tell me his name,” Misa says, and he’s not sure what he says but it can’t be _Quillsh Wammy_ because she looks at him sadly and Rem pushes him under the surface again.

He loses track of time. But then he’s breathing air, not water, and Misa is holding out her cell phone to him, saying, “It’s Light. He wants to talk to you.”

“Fuck off,” L snarls into the phone.

“L.” Light’s voice drips with amusement. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that there were _others_. Oh, well. There won’t be for much longer, if you understand what I mean.” He pauses for a moment to let this sink in. Then, “Dear old _Quillsh_ is going to do me a favor.”

L’s blood runs cold. “How—”

Light laughs nastily and hangs up on him.

“Call him back,” L says, panicked and pleading. “Misa, _please,_ call him back, tell him to wait, I’ll do anything he wants if he doesn’t kill Watari, _anything_ —”

She’s shaking her head. She has a syringe in her hand.

“I’m sorry, Ryuzaki. He told me not to listen to you.” The needle slides into his arm, and the last thing he hears before the darkness pulls him under is her voice, quiet and full of sadness. “I’m sorry, Ryuzaki. I’m so, so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, I'm sorry too.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated.


	7. Deception

Over a cup of vending machine coffee at a 24 hour Internet cafe, Light comes up with a plan.

Truthfully, it’s not one of his best. Far from it. It’s…risky, to say the least. Then again, if he had been interested in playing it safe, he would never have kidnapped L in the first place. Watari is dangerous and needs to be dealt with. Better to take a risk now than to be blindsided later.

By the time he gets to Headquarters, it’s nearly 3 am and the doors are locked. Having anticipated this, he pulls a legal pad and a Sharpie out of his bag and writes L LAWLIET in big block letters on the front page.

“Whoa there!” Ryuk exclaims. “Whatcha doing, Light’o?”

“You’ll see, Ryuk. Just trust me.”

Looking directly at the security camera, he holds up the legal pad so that L’s name is clearly visible. Less than a minute later, the door opens and Watari steps out. “Yagami.” His voice is steely. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Take a walk with me,” Light says, turning on his heel without waiting to see if Watari is coming—because of course he is. “The mask is unnecessary, by the way. Misa’s not here, and I don’t have the Eyes.”

Silence. Then, “You’re Kira.”

“I think that goes without saying, don’t you?”

They keep walking.

“Where are we going?” Watari asks eventually.

“There’s a park down the street. We’re almost there. Don’t worry, Watari. I just want to talk.”

“I have a Sig Sauer P320 in my coat pocket.”

“And I have Lawliet.” God, he loves saying that name. “Not in my coat pocket, obviously. But I have him. And I think this goes without saying, too, but just so we’re clear: if anything happens to me, he dies.”

They’ve reached the park. It has been raining almost nonstop the past few days, and the ground is sodden. Mud squelches beneath their shoes as they leave the pavement and walk across the grass. They come to a stop on a stone bridge overlooking a small, manmade lake.

Light had kissed a girl here, once. She’d found it romantic. He had just found it boring.

“Go on,” he says now, leaning back casually against the side of the bridge. Arrogant, because that’s what Watari expects of him. Young and arrogant and overconfident. “Whatever you want to say, say it. Let’s get all of the threats out in the open.”

“I am not the only one with an interest in L’s wellbeing,” Watari says stiffly. “There are others—people who, like me, have been trained for these kind of situations. If any harm comes to him because of you, even if there is not enough evidence to prove the case to the police, we _will_ hunt you down. And we _will_ make you pay.”

“Sounds terrifying,” Light says. “But I’m afraid you’ve mistaken my intentions, Watari. I have no desire to harm him, or to make an enemy out of you. Actually, I brought you here tonight because I want to make a confession.”

“A confession,” Watari says flatly.

“Yeah. Honestly, Watari, I’m just…I’m so tired. Of all the lies. And I find myself in desperate need of an ally.”

“An ally.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Look. I’m going to be straight with you. I have no respect for you as a person. I may be a monster, but at least I’ve never tortured anyone, or terrorized a teenage girl whose parents were murdered during a break-in just a few years ago by sending men to break into her flat in the middle of the night. You disgust me. But…I need you on my side. Just hear me out, okay? You don’t understand the situation I’m in. Yes, I _am_ Kira. But while I may have once believed that my actions were justified, I no longer do. The only reason I haven’t turned myself in yet is because of L. I know this may be hard to believe, but I kidnapped him because I want to save his life.”

Ryuk is cackling behind his shoulder. Light ignores him. Waits for Watari’s response, which is, predictably, “I don’t believe you. That is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard.”

“Of course you don’t. But the truth of the matter is, I’m the only thing standing between L and a heart attack. I meant what I said earlier. If anything happens to me, he dies. I’m trying to prevent that, so I need you to work with me here.”

“Why would he die if something were to happen to you?”

“There are…larger forces at play. That’s all I can tell you.”

Watari shakes his head. “You’re lying, as you always are. You want him dead. You’re using him as leverage against me now, but as soon as you get what you want, you’ll kill him.”

“If I wanted L dead,” Light snaps, “I would have killed him like I’d originally planned, and you would already be dead too. Let’s be clear about that.” Then, more calmly, “Call it remorse, call it whatever you’d like, but I don’t want him dead. We’re on the same side, Watari. All I’m asking is that you stop working at cross-purposes with me.”

“You are asking me to stand back and let you, a mass murderer by your own admission, essentially do whatever you want. Based on a far-fetched and completely unsubstantiated story that you likely made up about five minutes ago.”

“Why the _hell_ would I make this shit up when I could have just said, do what I want or else I’ll kill L?”

“Because you’re a compulsive liar and you’re trying to get into my head.”

Which is—exactly right. But he’d never expected Watari to believe him. He’d only needed to plant a seed of doubt. Now, he pretends to be irritated. Pretends to have reached the end of his patience.

“God, you’re so fucking narrow-minded! I’m telling the fucking truth!” He makes a visible effort to calm himself down. “Look. If you believe me, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to delete the security footage from tonight. If you’ve been recording this conversation, you’re going to delete that too. You are going to stop antagonizing me and my girlfriend. You’re going to stand down and let me do what I have to in order to keep L alive. But if you think I’m lying, go ahead and arrest me right now. I _have_ just confessed to being Kira. Arrest Misa too. She’s the Second Kira. If I really am just making all of this up, nothing bad’s going to happen to L if you arrest us, right? I’ve left him enough food and water to last him…I don’t know, maybe a week? I’m sure you could _persuade_ me to tell you where I’m keeping him before then. So go on. Slap those shiny bracelets on me and find out if I’m telling the truth.”

Watari doesn’t move.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Light scoffs and turns away. Takes a few steps down the bridge, away from Watari, and then stops, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh. One last thing. I’m going to need you to tell me your name.”

Watari says, “How do I know you won’t write it down in your Death Note as soon as I walk away?”

Which is—a perfectly reasonable thing to say. But incredibly revealing at the same time. “Do you want to know what I think, Watari?” Light says slowly. “I think you value L’s life more than your own. I think you’d take that gun in your coat and blow your own brains out right now if I asked you to. You’re not afraid I’ll write your name in the Death Note. You’re afraid I’ll write something else after it, like ‘he takes the page that Light hands him and writes down the names of anyone he believes would be a threat to Light in the future.’ Because there are others, aren’t there? There are people whose existence I don’t even know about and you think that they can bring me down. And you know their names.”

Watari’s expression is inscrutable, hidden behind his mask, but his silence is answer enough.

“Well. I suppose it’s a good thing, then, that I have no desire to kill you. Or anyone else, for that matter. I need your name as insurance, that’s all. Because, quite frankly, I don’t trust you. So either tell it to me right now, or arrest me. Those are your only two options.”

Watari is silent for a long moment. “Quillsh Wammy,” he says finally. He could be lying, but Light doesn’t think he is. Ryuk, who is perched on a nearby tree branch like some overgrown bird from hell, is gawking at him.

Light pulls the legal pad and the Sharpie out of his bag. “Write it down for me, will you? I have no idea how to spell that.” He smiles, pleased, when Watari does so. “You can ask something of me in return, you know. Within reason, of course.”

“Stop killing criminals,” Watari says. So predictable.

“Ten days,” Light says, “starting tomorrow.” He extends a hand, but Watari ignores it, just nods curtly and walks away. Light watches him go, his mouth twitching into a smirk as the old man disappears into the darkness.

Ryuk flaps down from the tree branch, grinning. “Damn, I knew you were convincing, Light’o, but I can’t believe he gave you everything just like that! He didn’t even try to lie about his name!”

“Hm. Actually, Ryuk, I’m fairly certain he’s on his way back to HQ to make use of the Notebook there as we speak.” Light reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out a perfect replica of the Death Note. “Think you can beat him there?”

“Pfft. I’m the fastest Shinigami there is!” Ryuk points a finger at his chest. “But you owe me big time for this one, Light’o!”

“Of course. Tell you what, I’ll buy you an entire apple pie on the way home. Better get going, though. If I die, you won’t get any pie.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” The Shinigami flaps into the night. 

Light laughs, pulls out his phone, and dials Misa’s number.

* * *

Drowning. He’s drowning. The water is so cold and so heavy in his lungs and he’s panicking, he can’t breathe, he’s drowning, he’s actually drowning—

“Wake up, Ryuzaki. It’s just a dream.”

L jolts awake with a rattle of the handcuff and a gasp for air. His shirt is soaked with sweat, cold and damp against his skin. His heart is pounding in his chest. He cannot remember how to breathe.

Light is sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Light has not called him _Ryuzaki_ in a long time. Light is spinning a pen between his fingers and his Death Note is open in his lap.

Light has killed Watari and Near and Mello and maybe Matt.

Light is offering him a lollipop.

L ignores it, looks him straight in the eye, and says, “How does it feel to know that you’ve murdered innocent children, Kira?”

Light blanches. The lollipop falters. “What? No, you’re lying, they couldn’t have been…” He gets to his feet, sweeping the Death Note onto the floor and tangling his fingers in his hair. “You’re _lying._ ”

L says nothing. Just waits.

“How old?” Light asks finally, his voice weak.

“Nate was thirteen and Mihail was fourteen.” And then, because Light doesn’t look quite upset enough by this, “Not much older than your little sister Sayu.”

“Shut up!” Light snarls at him. “Shut up shut up shut up!” He drops back into his chair, putting his head in his hands.

L says, very quietly, “Do you feel righteous now?”

“I didn’t kill them,” Light says, without looking up.

“You made Watari kill them. Don’t pretend there’s a difference to try to absolve yourself of what you’ve done.”

“No, actually, L. I didn’t kill them, as in they’re not dead. Neither is Watari, for that matter.” Light looks up at him then, and, damn him, he’s _smirking_. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t actually go around killing people indiscriminately. I’m sorry for misleading you. I just wanted to see if you’d tell me anything useful…and, well, you certainly did, didn’t you?”

L stares at him, silent. Light’s smirk deepens. He gets to his feet, picking up the Death Note and dusting the cover off. “I’ve got to go now. I won’t be able to visit for a while, but I’ll send Misa by to keep you company. Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?” 

He tucks the lollipop between L's fingers, and, before L can react, presses his lips briefly to the back of L’s hand like they're in some eighteenth century period film. Then he’s gone, leaving L staring after him, feeling angry and…he doesn’t know what else, with only one coherent thought in his brain.

_Well, shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light's plan was inspired by this quote from Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows: "When everyone knows you're a monster, you needn't waste time doing every monstrous thing."
> 
> I'm honestly not sure if this chapter made sense or not, so if you were confused about anything, don't hesitate to leave a comment and I'll try to clarify the issue.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Also, if you have a minute to spare, check out this [tiktok](https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJVLWbP6/), I promise you won't regret it. I found it today and watched it a million times in a row because it is just...a masterpiece. I'm going to watch it again now lol


	8. Proposition

Misa wakes up feeling happier than she has in a long time.

Light is asleep beside her, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the warmth of his breath against her bare shoulder. He usually wakes up before her, but he hasn’t today. He must be exhausted from last night.

Last night had been…amazing. Light had been so beautiful, so passionate as he’d made love to her. There’s an ache between her thighs, and she’s sore in places that she didn’t even know it was possible to be sore in, but not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all. In fact, she’d gladly wake up every morning feeling like this.

The nausea hits her out of nowhere. She scrambles out of bed and barely makes it to the bathroom before last night’s dinner comes up. Roast duck and vegetables. White rice. Non-alcoholic wine. She closes her eyes so that she doesn’t have to see it all floating around in the toilet bowl, because that would just be gross.

She feels slightly better once she’s emptied her stomach, so she goes to the sink and swishes around some bubblegum flavored mouthwash. It's sickly sweet, but she’s conditioned herself to like it. After thirty seconds, she spits, turns the faucet on, and watches the pink bubbles disappear down the drain. Then she splashes some water on her face and pats it dry with a towel.

Light cracks an eye open when she slides back into bed. “Morning sickness again?” His voice is low from sleep.

“Yeah. Sorry I woke you up.”

“What time is it?”

She glances at the digital clock on the nightstand. “6:15.”

“Oh.” Light sighs, propping himself up on an elbow. “I should probably be getting up anyway, then.”

“Do you have to? It’s Saturday.”

“I’m well aware of what day it is, Misa. The Kira investigation doesn’t take weekends off. I need to get to HQ and talk to Watari before the rest of the task force gets there.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“Most things would if you bothered to use your brain,” Light says under his breath, already pulling on his pants.

Misa doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she doesn’t.

“You should go see L today,” Light says, after a moment of silence. He’s buttoning up his shirt now. Pulling on a sweater over it. “Ryuk is going with me to HQ, but I’m sending him back as soon as I can, and he’s going to stay with you for the rest of the day to make sure you’re not followed to the apartment. I told Watari that you’re the Second Kira, remember, so you need to be extra careful.”

“Okay,” Misa says. “I will be. I promise.”

“Good.” 

He heads for the door. “Wait!” Misa calls after him, suddenly desperate to make him stay, if only for a minute longer. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”

“Seriously?” Light says, but he comes back and he kisses her. She tilts her head up, chasing him when he pulls away. He straightens with a slightly mocking smile. “See you later, Misa.”

By the time she remembers how to breathe again, he’s gone.

She goes to see L around lunchtime, picking up a salad for herself and a slice of strawberry cheesecake for him on the way there. He’s crouched on the bed, staring at the wall, when she walks in. He looks at her, but says nothing.

Misa forces a bright smile onto her face and throws her arms around him, because she’s not sure what else to do. It’s a mistake. She realizes that immediately when he stiffens, his muscles tensing as if he’s fighting the urge to bolt. She lets go, stuttering out an apology.

“I’m so sorry, Ryuzaki, I don’t know why I did that…I won’t…I won’t do that again. I’m…I’m sorry.”

L stares at her for a long moment, silent. “What exactly are you apologizing for?” he asks finally.

“Hugging you,” Misa says. “And…and everything else.”

“I see.” Something shifts in his expression. “Come here. You’re shaking.”

She hadn’t even noticed.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, and, moving slowly, L puts his arms around her. The gesture seems unnatural to him. “You can hug me back, you know,” he says after a moment. “I was surprised earlier. That’s all.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They stay like that for some time.

“We’re still friends, right?” Misa asks eventually. She pulls back slightly and searches his expression.

L’s mouth twitches at the corner, as if he’s trying to smile but can’t quite manage it. “Of course, Misa. We’re still friends.”

* * *

In hindsight, L thinks, it should have been obvious that Light was playing him.

Light had agreed too easily to Misa’s suggestion that they torture him. He had ended the phone call immediately after revealing that he knew Watari’s name and that ‘others’ existed because that’s all he _had_ known. He had woken L up in the middle of a nightmare, not out of kindness, but so that L would be disoriented, so that the conversation would take place on _his_ terms. 

It should have been obvious. L shouldn’t have fallen for it.

But he had.

_I can’t let myself make any more mistakes like that in the future. The smallest misstep could mean not just my death, but Watari’s and Near’s and Mello’s._

Which is why he’s immediately apprehensive when, a few weeks later, Misa... propositions him.

They’re sitting on the sofa in the living room. The TV is on, but neither of them are really watching it. L is sitting—well, like a normal person for once—with his feet on the floor, thinking wistfully of proper English tea and scones with strawberry jam. Misa has kicked off her high-heeled combat boots and is resting her feet in his lap. She’s looking through a book of baby names, but she hasn’t turned a page in almost 20 minutes.

“Ryuzaki?”

“Hm?”

“I was just thinking that it’s kind of weird, you know, that…well, I’m pregnant with your baby, but you don’t remember…”

L stares at her. Surely this conversation isn’t going where he thinks it is.

“I was thinking we could…only if you want to, obviously, but…” She flushes, cheeks tinged pink. “…well, do you?”

That sets off about a million alarm bells in his mind. “Why?” he asks, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

“I…just…” She bites her lip, hesitating. Then she blurts it all out. “For Light, okay? We slept together a few weeks ago and it was _amazing,_ at least I thought so, and I thought he liked it too, but ever since then, whenever I’ve asked him if he wants to do it again, he says he’s too tired, or too busy, and I know he _is_ really busy and he has more important things to do than have sex with me all the time, and I’m fine with that, I really am, but the other night I had this horrible thought, what if he just doesn’t want to have sex with me again because I’m not _good,_ you know? And the more I think about it, the more it makes sense, because I only had a few boyfriends before I met him and I never really did much with them, and I know he dated a lot of girls before, so he probably has more experience than me, and I want to get better for him, and I thought, well, we’ve already done it once, so why don’t I just ask you?”

“Oh,” L says. And then, against his better judgement, “Okay.”

Misa beams and throws her arms around him. “I knew you’d help me out! You’re such a good friend, Ryuzaki!” She pulls back after a moment, studying his expression. She looks suddenly worried. “You know you can say no, right? I won’t kill you or anything, I won’t even be mad…it’s fine if you don’t want to…if you don’t want me…”

“I want you,” L admits. His voice is slightly hoarse. He clears his throat.

“Well, in that case…” She swings a leg over his, straddling him. The movement makes her thigh highs roll down slightly, her skirt ride up. “I was thinking we could start with a blowjob. If that’s something you want.”

“Y-yes.” His breath hitches when she rocks forward in his lap, momentarily grinding against the erection already stirring in his jeans. “Why are you…”

It’s getting increasingly hard to put his thoughts into words, but she seems to understand what he means. “I want you to enjoy this too, silly,” she breathes, and kisses him. Her lips are soft and slightly sticky with cherry flavored lip gloss. He kisses back instinctively, hungrily, but she pulls away after a moment, placing a teasing finger against his lips. She slides off his lap, down between his legs, and starts slowly unbuttoning his jeans.

L wonders if he’s dreaming.

When she palms the hard length of him through his boxers, he groans, hips canting up into her touch. “Misa…”

She smiles sweetly, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to him. She frees his cock from his boxers with deft fingers. Her eyes widen. “God, Ryuzaki, you’re so big…even bigger than Light, maybe…”

It’s a measure of how far gone he is that the thought of her doing this with Light only makes him harder. “Misa,” he groans again, barely recognizing his own voice. She hasn’t even done anything yet and he’s already falling to pieces. Rem is watching but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything except the wet heat of her mouth and how close it is to his throbbing cock.

“Tell me what you like, okay? That’s the entire point of this.”

She licks him slowly, painting a swath of heat and sensation from the bottom of his shaft, up toward the top. She takes her time swirling her tongue around the tip, tasting his pre-cum. His hips buck involuntarily upward when she begins to suck on it.

She draws back. Looks up at him.

“I…I liked all of that. God, Misa, don’t stop.”

She takes him into her mouth again, deeper this time, swallowing his entire cock. Her eyes are watering and he can feel her gag reflex working around him, but she doesn’t stop, just keeps bobbing her head up and down his length as if the only thing she wants is to make him feel good. She sets a steady rhythm, pulling out every once in a while to suck on the tip.

L pants, gripping the cushions beside him so hard his knuckles turn white, trying desperately to resist the urge to jerk his hips up and thrust his cock even further down her throat. As if she can tell exactly what he's thinking, Misa reaches for his hands and guides them to her pigtails, moaning encouragingly when he takes hold of her hair and starts fucking her face in earnest. Her throat convulses around him and some distant part of him is worried that he’s hurting her, but the part of him that’s in control doesn’t really care. It feels _so good_ and he can’t stop.

His movements become increasingly frantic. “Misa,” he gasps finally, “I’m going to—”

The door opens. Light says, “What the fuck?”

Misa jerks backward with a horrified gasp just in time for L to cum all over her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mark this as dub-con because both L and Misa are enthusiastically consenting, but please don't have sex with people you're holding prisoner irl :)
> 
> This was my first time writing smut so hopefully it wasn't terrible. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought!


	9. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: emotional and physical abuse
> 
> From "Monster" by dodie, which I listened to on repeat while writing this chapter:
> 
> _...we're both guilty of black or white thinking  
>  And through my red eyes, you look pale  
> All of your scars are looking more like scales  
> Two ugly creatures, two sinister preachers  
> Blind to the past, like a couple of monsters  
> Just a couple of monsters_  
> 

“What the _fuck,_ ” Light says again. He has a look of complete and utter disbelief on his face.

The last spurt of L’s cum hits Misa squarely in the eye. She shrieks, scrambling away from him. She looks completely defiled, her eyes watering, lips swollen, hair tangled, drool and cum smeared all over her face. “Light,” she gasps, “it’s not what it looks like, I—”

Light gives her a sharp look and she falls silent immediately, cringing. His lip curls with disgust. He reaches into his bag and tosses a pack of wet wipes at her. “Clean yourself up and get out.”

She’s shaking so badly it takes her four tries to get the package of wipes open. She scrubs her face until Light says coldly, “That’s enough. Out.”

She scrambles out of the door.

L stands up, buttoning his jeans. Light advances on him, his face pale with fury. “ _You._ What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Misa was worried that her skills weren’t satisfactory enough for you,” L says evenly. In the wake of his orgasm, he feels calm, detached even. More in control than he’s felt in a long time. “She asked me to—”

“I don’t give a shit about why she thought it was a good idea to let you put your dick in her mouth!” Light says angrily. “What were _you_ trying to accomplish?”

“…Completion?”

Light jabs an accusing finger into his chest. “You were trying to turn her against me, weren’t you? Admit it. You’re a cold, manipulative bastard.”

L huffs out a laugh. “You’re projecting, Light. I just wanted to get off.”

“Bullshit.”

“Misa’s very attractive. Why would I say no to her? You know, Light, I really don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about this. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were jealous.”

He says the last part jokingly. He expects it to defuse the situation in the same way that Matsuda’s idiotic remarks used to get him and Light to stop beating each other up. Because _of course_ Light’s not jealous. He doesn’t give a shit about Misa. L is beginning to suspect that the only reason he hasn’t killed her yet is because the Shinigami, Rem, is oddly protective of her.

He does _not_ expect Light to shove him against the wall and kiss him.

It’s harsh. Claiming. Light crushes their mouths together _furiously_ and for a moment, L forgets how to think. He forgets his own name. He forgets everything except for the feeling of Light’s lips against his—intoxicating. Electrifying.

For a moment. Only for a moment.

When Light pulls back, L punches him in the face, putting all of his pent-up anger into the blow.

Light stumbles and falls to the floor, blood spurting from his nose. “What the hell?” he screams, his voice muffled as he clutches at his nose, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He looks up at L with tears of pain and rage welling in his eyes. “What was that for?”

“I think it’s fairly obvious,” L replies coolly. “That was a cheap trick and a weak one at that. Did you really expect me to fall for it? To believe that you have feelings for me?”

“Why else—” Light squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then opens them again to glare at L. “Forget it. _Fuck you,_ ” he spits, getting to his feet and backing away, leaving a trail of blood dripping from his nose onto the floor. He slams the door on his way out.

It’s not until he’s gone that L considers the possibility that it wasn’t a trick after all.

* * *

It’s past midnight by the time Light comes home. Misa had begun to worry that he wasn’t coming back at all. _I have the Shinigami Eyes, I’m pregnant with L’s baby, I’m useful to him, he wouldn’t just leave me…_ She repeats it in her head over and over again, trying to reassure herself as she sits on the floor, staring at the door. Waiting for his footsteps, the sound of the key turning in the lock.

She throws herself at his feet the minute he walks through the door, her words pouring out of her in a flood. “Light I’m so sorry it’ll never happen again please forgive me I love you I don’t know what I’d do without you I couldn’t live without you please just give me one more chance to prove that I love you I can be useful to you I can be good for you please—”

He tries to walk away. She wraps her arms around his legs, holding him in place with all her strength. “Light please—”

“Let go of me.” His voice is cold.

He’s talking to her. That’s good. She can work with that. “No Light please just listen to me—”

“Let go of me before I kick you.” She doesn’t budge. After a moment, he sighs. “If you have something to say, Misa, stand up, look me in the eye, and say it.”

She stands up. Looks at him. His nose is swollen and there’s dried blood on his face. Did he get in a fight with L after she left? Over her? Maybe he does love her after all.

“I…” she begins haltingly. “I don’t know what Ryuzaki told you, but I was only…I realize now that it was a stupid idea, but you know me, I can be really stupid sometimes, and I thought…I thought I didn’t have enough experience…sexually…and I wanted to get better for you, so that’s…that’s what I was doing. He’s just a friend. I don’t feel anything for him.” She looks him directly in the eye, trying to make him see how sincere she is. “I love you, Light. I promise I can be better, I promise I won’t do anything like that ever again, just give me one more chance to prove that I love you and that I can be good for you. Please.”

She holds her breath, waiting for his response. He looks her up and down, his expression inscrutable.

“Do you know what I think, Misa?” he says after a long moment of silence. “I think you’re a lying whore.”

“No, please, I’m telling the truth, I love—”

“Shut _up,_ ” he snarls, slamming her against the wall in one sudden movement, his hands wrapped around her throat. She opens her mouth to protest and he _squeezes,_ cutting off her air. She scrabbles weakly at his hands, her vision going black at the edges, but he doesn’t let go or loosen his grip. His face is twisted into a cruel, hateful expression she has never seen before.

Just when she’s sure she’s going to die, he lets her go. She falls to her knees, gasping for air.

“Say it again now. I dare you to. Say that you _love_ me.”

She gets to her feet slowly, shakily. She looks him in the eye. “I love you, Light. I would die for you. I would do anything for you.”

His gaze hardens. “Then prove it.” He jerks his head toward the chair in front of her desk. She sits down. His footsteps retreat. A minute later, he returns with a page from her Death Note. There are twenty-five names written on it in her handwriting. Today’s judgements. He puts it on the desk in front of her. Presses a sparkly pink gel pen into her hand. “Write your name down.”

She’s crying. She doesn’t know when she started crying and she tries to stop because Light hates it when she cries but she can’t. The tears just won’t stop coming. “Please,” she whispers. “I don’t want to die.”

His breath is hot against the shell of her ear. “Tell you what, Misa. If you don’t want to write your name down, then write mine. Write mine and watch me die and then go back to the apartment and fuck _him_ to your heart’s content.”

She’s crying so hard she can barely see the page. She writes the first character of her name. She drops the pen.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“Light, please…the baby…”

“You can still write my name, Misa. It’s not too late.”

She picks the pen back up.

She starts writing the second character.

Forty seconds. One last stroke of the pen, and she’ll die of a heart attack in forty seconds. She wonders if Light will let her write that she dies as painlessly as possible.

It doesn’t matter. She loves him.

The pen trembles as she sets it to paper for the last time.

“Stop. Misa, stop.”

He takes the pen out of her hand. He drops it onto the floor.

She can’t stop shaking.

“Look at me, Misa.” 

She does.

He says, very quietly, “I’m sorry.”

She kisses him. Desperately, as though she’s about to die. She’s not, but she kisses him as though she is. “Fuck me,” she whispers. “Please, Light, if you love me at all—fuck me.”

She’s barely wet at all so when he bends her over the desk and enters her she cries out in pain. He stops. “Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Fuck me, Light. Harder. Please. Harder.” It hurts so bad and she’s crying again but she loves him so much and this must be hurting him too but he keeps going so he must love her back at least a little. “Oh God, Light, yes, fuck me harder, make it hurt, God, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I love you, I’ll make you love me too, I will, fuck that hurts yes Light oh God yes yes yes—”

She slips a hand between her legs and touches herself just the way she likes and somehow despite how much it hurts she cums and when she does he cums too, spilling inside her with a sharp, pained cry. He pulls out a moment later and his footsteps recede. She lies panting against the desk, trying to catch her breath. The page of the Death Note is stuck to her face, wet with her tears and probably snot too, which is actually really gross, but she’s too tired to pull it off. She’s too tired to do anything but lie there.

He comes back.

He pulls her gently to the ground—no, his lap, he’s sitting on the ground but she’s sitting on his lap—and presses something cool and hard to her lips. Glass? “Water,” he says. “Slow sips now. That’s it. Good girl.”

She’s so tired.

“Shh.” He strokes her hair. Presses his lips to her forehead. “It’s okay. Go to sleep now. I’m not going to leave you. I love you.”

She falls asleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene was inspired by [This Is My Confession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12237444).
> 
> Happier chapters ahead. I promise.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	10. Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mention of suicide
> 
> This chapter marks the end of the first of three major arcs in this story. The second and third arcs will probably be a bit shorter, for a total of about 25 chapters. That's just an estimate for now, but I thought I'd put it out there, just so you guys have an idea of how long this fic is going to be.

“I’d like to meet L’s successors,” Light says, dropping a sugar cube into his empty coffee mug with a _clink._

It’s 6:43 am. He and Watari are alone at Headquarters. The coffee machine is broken.

Watari stops tinkering with it and looks up at him sharply. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

He drops another sugar cube into his mug. _Clink._

_Clink._

_Clink._

“L told you he has successors?”

_No, but it wasn’t hard to guess based on what he **did** tell me. _“Next question,” he says, reaching for the bowl of sugar cubes again.__

_Clink._

_Clink._

__“You’ll never lay eyes on them,” Watari says. “Not while I’m alive.”_ _

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Light mutters under his breath. _I’m too tired for this._ He slams his mug onto the table, making the sugar cubes inside jump and rattle. “Would you stop _posturing_ for once and just listen to me? The rest of the task force thinks that L is dead. They’re going to ask me to take his place. Unless you want _Kira_ to become the next L, you’re going to tell the task force that L has legitimate successors, and then you’re going to take me to England, or wherever else they are, so that I can decide which one should join the investigation team. I honestly don’t see why you would be opposed to that.” 

__Watari shakes his head. “I will not endanger their lives by allowing you to meet them.”_ _

“For God’s sake, Watari, if I wanted them dead, I would just write your name in my Death Note and make _you_ kill them. Why would I go through all the trouble of getting to know them first?” 

__Watari is silent for a long moment. “You have no right to decide who L’s successor will be,” he says finally. “If you truly want one of them to join the investigation, I’ll come to a decision myself about who is better suited for the role.”_ _

__“The only way L’s successor will have any legitimacy in the eyes of the task force is if I vouch for him,” Light says._ _

__He’s right, and they both know it._ _

__Watari sighs and removes his glasses. He takes his time cleaning the lenses before putting them back on his face. “Pack your bags tonight. Wheels up tomorrow morning at 7 o’clock sharp.”_ _

__Light nods, and Watari walks out of the room without another word. Light sighs and reaches for the bowl of sugar cubes again._ _

__He’s tired. He’s so tired. He feels…empty. Numb._ _

__He’d lost control with Misa last night. He’d almost killed her. He shouldn’t have lost control like that._ _

_That was a cheap trick and a weak one at that._

_Damn him damn him damn him **damn him** —_

__No. He feels empty. He feels numb. He feels nothing at all._ _

__He drops another sugar cube into his coffee mug._ _

_Clink._

_Clink._

_Clink._

* * *

__L stares at the angry purple bruises around Misa’s neck, feeling sick to his stomach._ _

He must have replayed the encounter with Light at least a hundred times in his mind after Light had stormed out of the apartment yesterday, wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t hit him, if he had kissed him back. Wondering it it had been a trick or not. He hadn’t even _thought_ about Misa. He should have. He should have _known_ Light would do something like this. 

__Rem floats through the wall and L knows the exact moment she sees the bruises too, because she immediately whips out her Death Note._ _

__“Don’t!” Misa shrieks. “Rem, don’t! If you kill him I’ll kill myself, I swear I will!”_ _

__Rem goes very still. “Misa—”_ _

“Put it away! Put it away _right now_ or else—” Misa upends her purse, snatching a piece of paper and a pen from the jumble of items that fall to the floor. “Or else I’ll write my own name down!” 

__Rem slowly lowers her Death Note._ _

“How could you even _think_ about doing something like that to me?” Misa demands. There are tears in her eyes. “I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted me to be happy.” 

__Rem drifts toward her and, with an amount of tenderness L didn’t know it was possible for a Shinigami to display, brushes the golden curtain of Misa’s hair aside, laying bare the ugly bruises on her neck. “I do not know much about humans, but this does not look like happiness to me.”_ _

__Misa turns away from her. “Get out,” she says, her voice shaking._ _

__Rem doesn’t move._ _

“I said _get out!”_ Misa screams. “Don’t look at me like that! I have a Death Note too. I could kill him anytime I wanted to. He’s the one who can’t leave, not me! Now get out!” 

__Rem gives her a sad look, but floats away through the wall._ _

__Misa stands there for a moment as if she doesn’t know what to do. Finally, she crosses the room and sits down on the bed beside L. She’s not wearing makeup. Strangely, she looks older without it._ _

__“Light told me last night that he loves me,” she says, without looking at him._ _

__“He doesn’t,” L says quietly, “and you know it.”_ _

__Misa is silent for a long time._ _

__“I’m not stupid,” she says finally. “I know the words they use to describe people like me. But I don’t know how to be anything other than what I am.”_ _

__She looks up at him then. Her eyes are sad. “You’re a good friend, Ryuzaki,” she says, and kisses him._ _

__L jerks back, surprised. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive, Misa, but I don’t think this is a good idea. Light—”_ _

__“Light will never find out.”_ _

__She kisses him again, and after a moment, he kisses her back. Maybe if he were a better person, he’d try to save her. Maybe if she were a better person, she wouldn’t need saving in the first place. But neither of them are good people, so they just kiss one another, losing themselves in the wet heat of each other’s mouths, the slippery tango of each other’s tongues. He cups her face with the hand that isn’t chained to the bed frame and she tangles her fingers in his hair, gripping it so tightly he couldn’t pull away, even if he wanted to._ _

__“I love him,” she breathes into his mouth. “You wouldn’t understand.”_ _

__He does. He loves Light too. But love is nothing more than self-inflicted cruelty and Misa is living proof of it, so he says nothing. He just kisses her, and after a moment, she kisses him back._ _

__L does not love her and she does not love him and they do not pretend otherwise._ _

__They have sex and when they’re done, Misa puts her clothes back on and gathers up her belongings from the floor and leaves without a word._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe if he were a better person, he’d try to save her. Maybe if she were a better person, she wouldn’t need saving in the first place" is more or less a direct quote from Chapter 6 of [Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/621537).
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated :)


	11. Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mention of suicide
> 
> New POV in this chapter, let me know if you like it!

“I fucking _hate_ him,” Mello spits, clenching his hands into fists.

It’s freezing cold outside, but his anger is so hot he feels like it could burn him up, leaving nothing but charred ashes behind. Beside him, Matt lights a cigarette and holds it out to him. Mello shakes his head.

“I studied my ass off for that test,” he says, kicking the dirt. His breath forms clouds of condensation in the night air. “I bet he didn’t even study at all and he _still_ beat me. By _one point._ And then he had the _nerve_ to come up to me today, in front of everyone else too, and tell me I did really well. Like, what the _fuck?_ How condescending can you get?”

“Near—”

“Don’t say his fucking name around me!”

Matt rolls his eyes, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. “I think he was just trying to be friendly, Mels. He’s just…really socially awkward. You know he doesn’t have any friends.”

That does make Mello feel slightly better. Matt always knows how to make him feel better.

“I don’t want to be friends with him,” he mutters, stealing Matt’s cigarette and taking a long drag from it. The smoke irritates his lungs and he coughs. “Someone should fucking tell him that.”

They’re silent for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth between numb fingers.

“We should run away,” Matt says abruptly.

Mello laughs. “Yeah, sure, Matt.”

“I’m serious.” Matt stubs out the cigarette, grinding it against the iron bars of the fence surrounding the grounds. “Let’s get out of here and never come back. What do you say, Mels? No more Roger, no more Near…”

“You know I can’t.”

Matt sighs. “Don’t you ever want to live your own life instead of someone else’s? Honestly, mate, I’m worried about you. Look what happened to A and—”

“I’m not going to off myself or anyone else!” Mello says, too loudly. Both of them hold their breath for a minute, waiting to see if anyone will come to investigate the noise. They’re not supposed to be outside this late.

“Look, Matt,” he says after a while. “You can’t just ask me to give up everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m fine. Yeah, okay, I’ve been stressed out recently, and Near isn’t helping because he’s an asshole, but I’m _fine.”_

“Sure,” Matt says, not sounding convinced. “Whatever, man. It was just an idea. Let’s go back inside.”

“Yeah. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

They hear the sound of approaching tires on gravel at the same time.

“Get down!” Mello hisses, pulling Matt to the ground with him. They flatten themselves in the grass just in time to avoid being caught in the headlights of the nondescript black car that pulls up to the gates.

Two people get out of the car.

“What the hell?” Matt whispers to him. “Is that—”

“Watari,” Mello whispers back. “Yeah, I think so.”

“What’s he doing here? And who’s that with him?”

“I have no idea.”

“Oh my God he’s looking—”

“Shh!”

The stranger is looking directly at them. There’s no way he can actually see them—it’s too dark and they’re hidden in the grass, Mello _knows_ he can’t see them—but he’s looking in their direction as if he can somehow sense that they’re there. He says something quietly. Not in English.

Watari looks sharply at him. “What did you say?”

Japanese. They’re speaking Japanese.

The stranger looks away. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

They go inside.

Mello gets up slowly, brushing dirt off his clothes. His heart is pounding in his chest.

Matt scrambles to his feet beside him. “What language were they speaking? Could you understand what they were saying?”

“Japanese,” Mello says. He replays the conversation in his head. “That guy said something, I couldn’t really hear what it was, and Watari asked what he said, and he said it was nothing, he was just talking to himself.”

“That’s so weird,” Matt says. He hesitates. “It wasn’t just my imagination, right? He was looking at us.”

“There’s no way he could see us.”

“Yeah, I know, but…”

“Let’s go back inside,” Mello says, looking away. There’s a crawling feeling under his skin and he doesn’t want to talk about the stranger anymore. Matt would probably tell him it’s just the heebie-jeebies, but Mello knows it’s not. 

Something’s wrong. Something’s happened to L.

Matt must see the worry on his face, because he says, “If L were dead, Roger would have already told you and Near. You know he would have.”

“Yeah,” Mello says. “I guess.”

Still, he doesn’t sleep a wink that night.

* * *

He’s dozing through a lecture on the Second Sino-Japanese War the next afternoon when Roger walks into the classroom, nods apologetically at the teacher, and says, “Near, Mello, please come with me.”

“Has something happened to L?” Mello blurts out as soon as they’re in the hallway. Near looks up at him with a faintly puzzled expression on his face, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

“Watari is waiting for the two of you in my office. He’ll explain everything,” is all Roger says.

He might as well have said yes.

Mello trails behind him and Near on the way to the office. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. _How could L…he **promised** me he’d bring Kira to justice…he can’t be dead. He **can’t** be._

Watari is sitting behind Roger’s desk in the office, his fingers steepled in front of him. “Near. Mello.” He nods to each boy in turn. The stranger Mello saw last night is in the room too. He’s standing by the window, looking out of it. He turns with a faint, polite smile to face them as they walk in.

Roger leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Watari doesn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “As you boys know,” he begins, “I have been in Japan, assisting L with his investigation of the Kira murders. A little over a month ago, on the night of October 31st, to be precise, L disappeared from the roof of our Headquarters building. The security camera was temporarily disabled, so we have no idea what may have happened to him. Although the police have been searching for him ever since, they have found no trace of him, either dead or alive.”

“Did you release a physical description of him?” Near asks. “I assume a photograph would have been out of the question, given the nature of the Kira case.”

Mello stares at him, gritting his teeth. How could he be so _calm_ about this?

Watari shakes his head. “No. I judged that even a physical description would be too risky.”

“Too risky?!” Mello exclaims incredulously. “He might be dead!”

Watari looks at him with a solemn expression. “I am well aware of that possibility, Mello. Which brings me to why I’m here. At the time of his disappearance, L had not yet chosen one of you as his successor. In his absence, I am hesitant to choose for him. However, the fact remains that there is an opening on the team currently investigating the Kira murders. I would like to name one of you as his successor, at least temporarily. If we are able to find him alive, the final decision would, of course, remain his to make.”

Mello is quiet for a while as he takes this in. “Who’s _he?”_ he asks finally, jerking his head toward the stranger, who has been standing by the window, listening in silence the entire time.

“My name is Raito Yagami. I’m with the Japanese police.”

His English is perfect. So is…well, everything about him, from his neatly brushed hair to his squeaky-clean white tennis shoes. Mello dislikes him immediately.

He narrows his eyes at Raito. “You’re too young to be a cop. How old are you, eighteen?”

“Almost nineteen,” Raito says with a smile. “You’re right, I’m not on the force. However, I _am_ helping out with the Kira investigation. It’s kind of a long story—one that I’d be happy to tell you if Watari chooses you to be L’s successor.”

Watari clears his throat, drawing Near and Mello’s attention back to him. “Raito is here to provide a second opinion. Over the next few weeks, he and I will come to a joint decision regarding which one of you is better suited to join the Kira investigation team as L’s stand-in. For now, unless you have any questions, the two of you are dismissed.”

Near nods and leaves the room. Mello follows him a moment later, shooting one last suspicious look at Raito over his shoulder.

“I don’t trust him,” he says to the back of Near’s head as they walk down the hall. It’s probably the first time he’s ever willingly talked to Near in his life, but who else would he talk to about this? “Raito, I mean. There’s something off about him. He shouldn’t be involved in this at all.”

“Yes,” Near says mildly. “I agree.”

They walk the rest of the way back to the classroom in silence.

Near stops just outside the door and looks up at him with a small, awkward smile tugging at his lips. “Best of luck in the next few weeks, Mello.”

Mello scowls and pushes wordlessly past him into the classroom.

_This has nothing to do with luck. I’m going to beat you. I’m going to win. **I’m** going to be the one who goes back to Japan with Watari. **I’m** going to solve the Kira case, and **I’m** going to find L._

_**Whatever it takes.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note on pairings between the Wammy's House boys: Matt and Mello are best friends, Mello/Near if you squint (although it's not really a big part of the story)
> 
> Thank you for reading and, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


	12. Asphyxia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mention of sexual assault

It’s 3:46 am and Light is standing in a graveyard.

The dirt feels cold and soft beneath his bare feet. Grass pokes between his toes. “Ryuk,” he says, teeth chattering, “do you believe in fate or free will?”

The Shinigami’s eyes glow yellow in the darkness, as bright as the headlights of an oncoming car. He laughs, but doesn’t answer.

The moon is a scrap of blank paper pinned in the sky. The gravestones don’t have names on them.

Light wants to scream.

Instead, he turns around silently and goes back inside.

* * *

It’s 8:00 am and he’s sitting in Roger’s office, stirring creamer into his coffee with a dainty silver spoon. Pale morning sunlight streams through the windows. There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he calls.

There is a thick manila folder on the desk in front of him. He picks it up and holds it out to Near as the boy walks into the room.

“Good morning, Near. This is one of L’s old case files concerning a serial strangler in Romania. I’d like for you to conduct an assessment of it, acting as if it is an ongoing case.”

Near takes the folder and sits down on the floor, raising a finger to twirl his hair as he begins to scan the pages. The folder contains postmortem photographs of each of the eleven victims, all women between the ages of nineteen and thirty-five. Near seems particularly interested by the photo of the second victim, holding it up and examining it with a thoughtful look on his face.

“The killer knew her personally,” he says as he puts down the photo.

Light raises an eyebrow. _That was quick._ “What makes you think that?”

“He strangled the first woman with a pair of nylon stockings,” Near says without looking up from the case file. “After that, he changed his modus operandi, beginning to strangle his victims with his bare hands instead. The shift to a more personal M.O. suggests a personal connection between him and his second victim. Furthermore, he killed his third victim less than a week afterwards, and his fourth victim less than a week after that. He most likely shortened the time between kills in order to draw the attention of the police away from his second victim, who he knew could be traced back to him.”

“I’m impressed, Near,” Light says. “That’s a brilliant deduction.”

Near shakes his head slightly. “It was obvious.”

The room is silent for a few minutes as Near continues to read the case file. Light finishes his cup of coffee, picks up a pen from Roger’s desk, and starts to spin it idly between his fingers.

Ryuk’s head appears through the wall of the office. Light pointedly ignores him until he disappears again.

“Andrei Moldoveanu,” Near says. He closes the case file and puts it aside, starting to work on the puzzle he’d brought into the office with him. “He was the killer. Interestingly, he was a police detective. That was his connection with his second victim; she was the fiancée of one of his coworkers. What I find even more interesting is the fact that, soon after killing her, he requested to join the team investigating the murders that _he_ was committing.”

He glances up at Light as he says this.

Light smiles faintly. _So he already suspects me of being Kira._ “That’s how L caught him,” he says. “By allowing him to join the investigation team and making him think that the police had more information than they actually did, L manipulated him into revealing details about the murders that only the killer himself could have known.”

Near looks back down at his puzzle. “In my opinion, L took unnecessary risks.”

“What would you have done?”

“Increased the police presence in areas of the city where he commonly chose his victims. Had him followed around the clock. Waited for him to make a mistake.”

Light raises an eyebrow. “Even if it meant more people might have been murdered?”

Near picks up a puzzle piece and examines it carefully before placing it onto the board. “That would have been unfortunate. But Moldoveanu would have slipped up eventually. Everyone always does.”

“I see,” Light says. “Thank you, Near. I found your assessment of this case quite insightful.”

Near picks up his puzzle and heads silently for the door.

“Wait,” Light calls after him. “One last thing.” He spins the pen in his fingers, trying to think of the best way to phrase the question he wants to ask. _How would your assessment of this case change if it was L’s life at risk?_

He puts the pen down and looks at Near. “I’d like to hear what you think about the Kira case and L’s disappearance.”

For the first time all day, Near meets his gaze and holds it. His eyes are the precise same shade of gray as L’s. “If you can’t win the game, if you can’t solve the puzzle, you’re nothing but a loser,” he says simply. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the door.

 _Interesting,_ Light thinks.

He leans back in his chair, closes his eyes, and starts spinning the pen again.

* * *

It’s 2:00 pm and he’s dozing in the warmth of the afternoon sun when Mello strides into the office, not bothering to knock first. The sharp _crack_ of a chocolate bar between Mello’s teeth jolts him awake.

“Sleeping during the day is bad for recovering from jet lag,” Mello sneers at him as he opens his eyes.

Light glances at his watch. _Fuck._ He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Especially not for hours in the middle of the day. He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes.

“Hello to you too, Mello. Please, take a look at this case file. L solved it years ago, but I’d like for you to act as if it is an ongoing case. I’m interested to hear your thoughts on it.”

Mello takes the folder and opens it, his face immediately screwing up in a grimace when he sees the photographs of the dead women. “Sick bastard,” he says, taking another bite of his chocolate bar.

“I quite agree,” Light says with a faint smile. _Andrei Moldoveanu dies choking on his own blood on the floor of his prison cell._ “However, please stick to the facts of the case.”

Mello scowls. “The killer was a psychopath and a sexual sadist. Is that _factual_ enough for you?”

Light raises an eyebrow. “A sexual sadist? What makes you think that? There’s no evidence that he sexually assaulted any of his victims.”

“All of his victims were young, attractive women,” Mello says impatiently. “He got off on killing them even if he didn’t rape them. Now would you _please_ be quiet and let me think?”

Ryuk phases through the ceiling just in time to hear that last sentence. “Hyuk hyuk hyuk! Were you this moody when you were a teenager, Light’o?”

“I was _definitely_ not this moody when I was a teenager,” Light says under his breath.

Mello glares at him. “I heard that, asshole. And you _are_ a teenager.”

Light gives him a conciliatory smile and leans back in his chair. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet now.”

Mello continues glaring at him for a few seconds before returning his attention to the case file. He paces back and forth across the room, taking a pen from the desk and scribbling notes in the margins as he reads. Every once in a while, he mutters out loud to himself. “Highly organized…left little evidence at the crime scenes…used forensic countermeasures…”

After a few minutes, Ryuk gets bored and leaves. Light amuses himself by studying Roger’s insect collection.

“Andrei Moldoveanu,” Mello says finally. He closes the folder and drops it back onto the desk. “He was a police detective, which explains his knowledge of forensics, and he fits the profile perfectly. He was the killer. I’m sure of it.”

“What would you have done to catch him, if you were L?” Light asks.

Mello answers without hesitation. “I would have approved his request to join the investigation team and tried to fool him into revealing details about the murders that only he could have known. I would also have hired people to follow him around the clock, letting him catch sight of them once or twice to put him on edge and make him more likely to make a mistake. If all else failed, I would have had him arrested, even if I didn’t have enough evidence to incriminate him yet. Then, I would have done whatever was necessary to get a confession out of him.”

“Interesting,” Light says. “Thank you, Mello. I found your assessment of this case quite insightful. You’re free to go.”

Mello doesn’t move.

Light raises an eyebrow.

“You know,” Mello says abruptly, “L promised me something when he first took on the Kira case. He said he would personally see to it that Kira received capital punishment.” He leans across the desk, close enough that Light can smell the chocolate on his breath. “I’m going to find him. And I’m going to be there with him when _Kira_ is strapped down in the electric chair.”

Light smiles and says nothing.

Mello’s face twists with anger. He turns and heads for the door, his empty chocolate wrapper clenched in his fist.

“Mello,” Light calls after him.

“What?”

“I’m not Kira.”

Mello scoffs and slams the door so hard on his way out that the bookcases shake and Roger’s insect collection falls off the wall, the glass shattering into thousands of shiny pieces on the floor.

Light can’t help himself. He laughs.

* * *

It’s 6:04 pm and he’s watching the sunset from the window of his room. The door creaks behind him as Watari lets himself in.

“Your thoughts?”

“Near is brilliant but lacks initiative. Mello is passionate but lets his emotions cloud his judgement. I don’t know who to choose.”

The sky is as red as blood, streaked with purple and indigo clouds. The sun sinks slowly towards the horizon.

He’s made his decision already, but he won’t tell Watari yet. He’s not ready to go back to Japan yet.

Watari clears his throat. “Why are we here, Yagami? What are your real intentions?”

He says nothing. Eventually, Watari leaves.

The sun sets. Night comes on.

* * *

It’s 1:48 am and he’s convinced that he can feel L’s long, cold fingers wrapped around his neck.

He’s never been claustrophobic but suddenly his room is too small. It’s too small and he can’t breathe. He goes outside. The night is clear and he can see the stars and it helps, just a little.

_L Lawliet._

He’s wearing his watch. One drop of blood is all it would take.

He could do it. It would be so easy.

He doesn’t.

He lies on his back on the steps of the orphanage and stares up at the stars. He whispers to himself, “I don’t love him.”

“I _don’t._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, feedback is greatly appreciated!


	13. Lies

“Mmm.” L stuffs the last bite of his chocolate chip waffle into his mouth, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillow with a small, contented sigh. “That was _good.”_

Misa smiles. _Just wait. I’m about to make your day even better._ She leans in and licks up the chocolate syrup dripping down his wrist.

L opens his eyes, startled. Misa takes advantage of his surprise and pops his fingers into her mouth, licking and sucking the sweet, sticky syrup from his long, bony digits.

“Wh-why are you…”

“You’re so cute when you stutter,” she giggles, ignoring the question. He’s getting hard already, his erection pressing against her thigh through the rough denim of his jeans. _Perfect._

“Do you know what would really _suck?”_ she says, putting a lewd amount of emphasis on the last word. “If…somehow…you got chocolate syrup all over yourself and I had to”—she toys with the button of his jeans and lowers her voice to a suggestive whisper—“lick _all_ of it up.”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, dark eyelashes fluttering against pale skin as he momentarily closes his eyes. “Why?” he manages finally, opening his eyes again.

She smiles mischievously at him. “Why not?”

Apparently that’s the wrong thing to say. His fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her hand away before she can undo the button of his jeans. “Misa, I’m serious. Why are you doing this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Annoyed, she sits up. _Jesus Christ. Light is in England and I’m lonely. You’re a genius, do I really have to spell it out for you?_ She crosses her arms and glares at him. “Because you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met and I want your big, perfect cock inside me. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Just answer the question,” L says flatly. He sits up on the bed, drawing his knees into his chest.

Misa sighs. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but…whatever. You know about the Eye Deal, right? Yeah, um, about that…I did it twice. Once with Rem, when she gave me the Death Note, and once with Ryuk, when I got my memories back a few months ago.”

L stares at her. “You halved your lifespan _twice?”_

“Yeah,” Misa says, looking down at her hands. Her black nail polish is slightly chipped. She sighs, making a mental note to do something about that when she gets home. “I don’t regret it, but…I know I don’t have a lot of time left. My birthday is in a few weeks and I guess I’ve just been thinking about this a lot more because of that. I’ve done the math, and…well, I probably don’t have very many birthdays left. That’s my answer, I guess. I just…I don’t want to waste what little time I have left by not doing the things I want, you know?”

She doesn’t say anything about Light. Hopefully, if L suspects that she’s lying to him—she’s never told him about Gelus, so there’s no reason for him to, but just in case he does—he’ll think it’s because she doesn’t want to talk to him about Light. Which is true. Because she doesn’t.

“I see,” is all he says. And then, after a moment, “Well, alright.”

He puts his legs down and tugs at her shirt until she crawls into his lap, but she pulls away when he tries to kiss her. _Not yet._ “I don’t want a pity fuck,” she warns him. “If you’re just doing this because I’m…because of what I just told you, then forget it.”

He laughs quietly. “Misa. Let’s be honest here. You’d kill me without a moment’s hesitation if Light asked you to. I’d put you in prison for the rest of your life if I could. _Pity_ has nothing to do with this.” He leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You’re hot and I want to fuck you, that’s all.”

His breath ghosts against her lips. A shiver goes down her spine.

The key to the handcuffs is in her bra. She slips it out and presses it into his hand.

“Then do it,” she whispers back. “ _Fuck me._ ”

* * *

Afterwards, they lie tangled together in the sheets, sweat dripping from their skin, L’s cum sticky and warm between her thighs. Misa stares up at the ceiling and tries not to think about Light—tries not to think about his bright amber eyes or the warm honey of his voice or how cold her bed is without him or how _furious_ he would be if he could see her right now.

“Did you reach climax?” L asks her, his low, monotone voice jolting her out of her thoughts.

Misa blushes, embarrassed. “Um, no, I don’t think so,” she says, avoiding his gaze.

“I could…”

She shakes her head quickly. “It’s fine.”

L sits up and looks at her, scrutinizing her in a way that makes her feel even more embarrassed than she already does. “Misa,” he says after a moment, “really, I wouldn’t mind…”

“It’s fine,” she insists. He doesn’t seem convinced, so she says, “If I wanted to…I would just…do it myself, you know?”

He brings his thumb to his lips, tilting his head slightly as he looks at her. “Do you want to?” he asks curiously.

Misa blushes even harder. She’s never masturbated in front of anyone else before. She’s never even considered it. But there’s something about the way L is looking at her…

“You don’t think that would be…gross…or weird…if I did that in front of you?” she asks tentatively.

“I don’t.”

She considers it for a moment.

“Okay,” she says. Before she can talk herself out of it, she slides a few of her fingers into her mouth and coats them in her saliva. Then she slips her hand between her legs and starts to touch herself, flattening her fingers and rubbing her clit back and forth in diagonal motions, making tingling sparks of pleasure race up her spine. With her other hand, she roughly gropes her own breasts, pinching and twisting her hard, oversensitive nipples. Sensation rushes through her body and she bites down on her lip to keep herself from moaning out loud.

She’s hyper-aware of the fact that L is watching her, but it’s not as awkward as she’d been afraid it might be. It’s actually kind of… _thrilling_. He strokes his cock as he watches her, his eyes dark with lust. Even when she closes her eyes, letting her head fall back against the crimson sheets, letting small, breathy moans fall from her lips, she can still feel his gaze boring into her, intensifying everything she’s feeling.

She cums with a gasp, her back arching and her thighs trembling as she tips herself over the edge. She keeps her fingers pressed against her clit, not moving them, drawing out her orgasm. It feels like being lit up from the inside—first a bright flare, then warmth spreading through her.

She watches through half-lidded eyes as L jerks off. When he cums, squeezing his eyes closed and spilling all over his hand, it’s with her name on his lips.

Misa pulls him in for a kiss, pressing her lips to his as the last shudders of his orgasm pass through him, shaking his entire body. He makes a soft, surprised sound and kisses her back, his hands coming up to cup her face.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss and leans back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He looks as worn-out as she feels. She settles down beside him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. He puts an arm around her and they stay like that, silent, for a while.

She thinks she could fall asleep just like that, but there’s something she wants to ask him first. Something she’s been wondering about for months.

“Did you mean it, when you said you could fall for me?”

He’s silent for a long time, long enough that she thinks he isn’t going to answer. “No,” he says finally. “I didn’t.”

“That’s good,” she murmurs, already half asleep. “You’re my best friend, Ryuzaki. I’d hate to have to break your heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any and all comments are welcome :)


	14. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: suicide (it doesn't actually happen, but the possibility of it happening is described, so if you think the details may be triggering for you, feel free to skip the paragraph immediately following the word "dreams")
> 
> _Gleaming, twinkling  
>  Eyes like sinking ships on waters  
> So inviting, I almost jump in_
> 
> _But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush  
>  I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush  
> I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch  
> Everybody wants you  
> Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you_
> 
> _I don't like that falling feels like flying til the bone crush  
>  Everybody wants you  
> But I don't like a gold rush_
> 
> -Taylor Swift, "gold rush"

Weeks pass. Misa comes to the apartment nearly every day. She lets him off the chain whenever she’s there, lets him wander around the apartment and practice tai chi and watch whatever he wants on TV. On one particularly memorable occasion, she sets him loose in the kitchen with a head of cabbage, an onion, a red bell pepper, a package of yakisoba noodles, a knife, a cutting board, and a skillet.

L knows many things. How to cook is not one of them.

Somehow, he sets the stovetop ablaze. The fire alarms go off and the entire apartment building is evacuated. He and Misa hide in the bathroom. She buries her face in his shoulder, shaking with laughter as the alarm screeches overhead. His face burns with embarrassment.

Once the commotion dies down, they order pizza, curling up on the couch with the box balanced precariously in their laps while they watch _Titanic._ Misa cries during the movie and wants to recreate the sex scene after it’s over. They don’t have a car, but they do their best in the bathroom, closing the door and turning up the water in the shower as hot as it will go. He fucks her against the wall with her legs wrapped around his hips, their bodies slick with sweat. She leaves a handprint on the fogged-up mirror that reappears every time he takes a shower. He jerks off to it an embarrassing amount of times afterwards, remembering how hot and tight she had been around him, how pretty she had been with her blonde hair clinging to her skin with sweat, how sharp her small, pearly-white teeth had been against his neck.

According to Misa, they’re “friends with benefits.”

L laughs when she tells him this. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase,” he says, in response to the questioning look she gives him.

“I didn’t just make it up,” Misa says, rolling her eyes. She digs her spoon into the carton of Neapolitan ice cream they’re sharing. “FWB is, like, totally a thing. Do you live under a rock?”

L eats a spoonful of ice cream instead of pointing out the fact that he lives chained to a bed in a tiny basement apartment. He’s 65% certain that she was speaking figuratively and 88% certain that she won’t have sex with him later if he voices his thoughts out loud.

“Anyway,” Misa continues, licking her spoon, “it’s exactly what it sounds like. Well, actually… a lot of people who are friends with benefits aren’t, like, actually friends at all, they’re just people who have sex with one another sometimes, which is totally fine, I’m not judging or anything—but we’re _actually_ friends, aren’t we, Ryuzaki?”

 _No,_ he thinks. “Of course,” he says.

She smiles at him and they go back to eating their ice cream in silence. Later that afternoon, he fucks her on the couch.

They don’t have sex every time she comes to the apartment. Sometimes they don’t even talk; she just gives him the key to the handcuffs and lets him do whatever he wants while she lies on the couch and watches TV or reads a magazine or takes a nap. Sometimes she talks to him. For the most part, he tunes her out. She never says anything of substance. She never uses her Death Note in front of him either, although her fingers are perpetually stained with ink and he knows from watching the news that she’s killing twenty-five people a day. Maybe more.

She doesn’t bring it up, so neither does he. He has much more to lose than she does.

The thought that _she_ might be one of the things he is afraid of losing doesn’t cross his mind—sure, the sex is great, but it’s just sex—until he starts to see her in his dreams.

The first night it happens, he sees her curled up on a bed in a dark room. Her skin is pale and cold to the touch. An empty bottle of pills lies on the pillow beside her head. The night after that, he sees her naked in a bathtub, her blonde hair floating around her head like strands of seaweed in the ocean. Her eyes are closed. Her lips are the same bright, vivid red as the blood blossoming from her wrists.

He wakes up drenched in cold sweat, his heart racing in his chest. He doesn’t sleep for the next sixty hours.

Insomnia is an old friend of his, but even his body has limitations. He dozes off one afternoon after having sex with her, too exhausted to fend off sleep any longer. The moment his eyes slip shut, he sees her. She’s standing on the edge of a roof, staring out at the setting sun. Her body is awash in its brilliant amber glow. She looks at least a few years older. Her features are more gaunt, more angular than they were the last time he saw her. Her face is blank, devoid of any emotion. Her eyes are open but unseeing. It’s like she’s not even there. Like she’s already dead.

She doesn’t step off the edge of the roof so much as she falls, toppling off the ledge like a porcelain doll, the weight of her frilly black dress pulling her down. Mercifully, he jolts awake before he is forced to watch her shatter to pieces on the ground.

He finds her in the kitchen, humming to herself as she puts groceries into the refrigerator. She must have gone out while he was asleep. He comes up behind her and puts his arms around her, burying his face in her blonde hair and breathing in her girlish scent. She smells like cherries and vanilla and a little bit like sex.

Overcome by a sudden swell of emotions, painful and aching in his chest, he spins her around, pushes her against the refrigerator door, and kisses her.

Her eyes widen momentarily with surprise. Then she smiles and kisses him back.

She is warm and pliant and _alive, alive, alive_ beneath his hands, which are clumsy and desperate as he pulls her clothes off. He needs to touch her. He needs to assure himself that she’s real. When he kisses her wrist, he can feel her pulse fluttering against his lips. When he kisses the soft, pale underside of her breast, he can feel her heartbeat there too. He lifts her up onto the kitchen counter and kisses every pulse point on her body before lining himself up and sliding into her. She gasps and clenches around him, unbelievably hot and tight, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of her neck. He fucks her just like that, the apartment silent except for her quiet, breathy moans and the slick sounds of him thrusting in and out of her.

When he cums, clutching her tightly to him and shuddering as he pulses again and again deep inside her, it’s with her name on his lips. A prayer, or the closest thing he has ever said to one.

For a moment, his mind is completely blank. Then reality crashes down on him. He feels cold, suddenly. Cold and sick to his stomach.

What has she done to him?

He pulls out and starts to button his jeans back up. When she kisses him on the cheek, he pushes her away so hard that she falls off the edge of the counter. Rem is there in a split second, slamming him face-first into the side of the refrigerator and twisting his arm behind his back until he cries out involuntarily, his vision going black at the edges.

“Rem, stop!” Misa shrieks. “Let go of him!”

Rem does as she says, but it’s too late. The damage is already done. He and Misa stand there looking at one another, both of them wincing slightly from their injuries. The silence is awkward and ugly.

“Ryuzaki,” Misa says at last. She sounds apologetic and it makes him even angrier than he already is. He turns away from her before she can finish whatever it is she was going to say.

“You should go,” he says flatly.

“Ryuzaki, please—”

“Just go.”

The sick feeling in his stomach doesn’t go away, even when she leaves. He doesn’t sleep that night.

He knows if he does, he’ll dream of her.

* * *

She comes back three days later in the middle of the night. The apartment is pitch black, but she doesn’t turn on the lights, just quietly unlocks the door and comes into his room. The mattress creaks a little as she sits down beside him. Her cherries-and-vanilla scent envelops him.

“Are you awake?” she whispers.

“Yes.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Is it okay if—”

“Jesus Christ, _yes.”_

He hasn’t jerked off for days, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do it without thinking of her. It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to cum when she takes him into her mouth. She swallows every last drop and then crawls up the bed and kisses him.

She tastes salty and bitter but he doesn’t care. She is kissing him and that’s all that matters.

“Stay,” he whispers when she pulls away. “Just… just a little longer.”

“Okay,” she says softly. 

She settles down on the bed next to him, her body pressed in a warm line against his, her fingers stroking his hair. Her eyes are bright in the darkness, glittering like sunlight on the surface of the ocean.

L kisses the curve of her neck and lets himself dream, just for a moment, of jumping into her waters and sinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
